One Fine Day
by arainymonday
Summary: They had talked about their dads enough for Kurt to know three things. One, Mr. Anderson desperately wanted a straight son. Two, Blaine desperately wanted an accepting father. Three, Kurt had everything Blaine wanted.
1. Rainstorm

**Disclaimer:** I'm just playing in the Glee sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.  
><strong>Ships:<strong> Klaine  
><strong>Timeline:<strong> Between "Original Songs" and "Night of Neglect"**  
><strong>**Spoilers: **All of Season 1 and 2

**Author's Note:** Hello, I'm Heather. I'll be your author for this story.

I wrote this story as a way to clarify something for myself: How did Blaine go from asking Burt to give Kurt "the talk" in "Sexy" to sitting comfortably in the living room with him in "Prom Queen"? Just as a warning, this story alternates between fluff, angst, and fluffy-angst at an alarming rate. My own variable moods are definitely showing through in Kurt and Blaine.

The title "One Fine Day" comes from the Carole King song, although I've used the lyrics in a slightly different way from their typical interpretation. If you have never heard Darren Criss sing this song, you can go to YouTube and find it. It will break your heart, and that is Blaine's underlying emotional state throughout most of this story. I encourage you to take three minutes to listen.

I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you for reading and even more for reviewing.

* * *

><p><strong>ONE FINE DAY<strong>

**One**  
>"<strong>Rainstorm"<strong>

The spring storm rolled through Lima in the afternoon. Fluffy white clouds floating languidly through the forget-me-not blue sky turned steely gray, and lightning flashed between cloud castles for an hour before the first fat raindrops began to fall. Kurt and Blaine retreated indoors like everyone in the path of the storm and took up residence in Kurt's second floor bedroom. The iPod on the dock shuffled randomly through Kurt's music library while the boys lay on the bed flipping through the June issue of _Vogue_ and the quickening rainstorm pounded a backing rhythm on the roof.

Kurt paused in the middle of turning the page. Blaine peered up through his eyelashes to see his boyfriend smiling, eyes closed, head angled to the ceiling. Kurt hummed contentedly in his throat.

"I love rainstorms," he confessed with a slight laugh, almost like a giggle. "The rain sounds magical on the roof, doesn't it? Every time it rained when I was little, my mom would turn off everything in the house until it was absolutely silent, then we would cuddle and just listen to the rain."

The iPod cut off unexpectedly, and Kurt felt the glossy _Vogue_ page slipping from his fingers. He opened his eyes to find Blaine tossing the dock remote onto the bedside table and sliding the magazine across the comforter.

"I didn't mean we had to …"

Blaine wore such a look of loving tenderness Kurt trailed off and didn't even bother to argue the point. He let his boyfriend pull him into an embrace and tangle their limbs together. They lay a little awkwardly with their heads at the foot of the bed and their feet propped up on the pillows, but anything felt right when he was in Blaine's arms.

"I would kiss you now, but I'd feel weird kissing you when you're thinking about your late mom," Blaine said.

Kurt buried his head in the hollow were his boyfriend's neck met shoulder to hide his laughter. His shaking shoulders betrayed him, however, and he felt Blaine's reluctant smile against his temple. Kurt pushed closer to Blaine, and Blaine wrapped himself more securely around Kurt.

"What's so funny?" Blaine demanded when Kurt didn't stop laughing.

"Nothing. It's just that the first time you kissed me, I was decorating a casket. Then you brought up my mom at the funeral and held my hand. But a happy memory of my mother is off limits? Your sense of romance is incredibly macabre. I can't imagine what would initiate an actual make out session."

Blaine stayed silent for a long time, and Kurt began to wonder if he'd overstepped with his teasing. In the time that followed his comment and Blaine's response, the splatter of rain on the windows and roof turned into steady pounding as the heavens unleashed its full force against Lima. A peal of thunder rolled so loudly it rattled the bottles on Kurt's vanity and drown out the rapid beating of Blaine's heart against his cheek for a moment.

"Do you want me to kiss you? I don't want to push you, Kurt. I'm happy just being with you, just holding you like this. Just being your boyfriend is more than I ever hoped for."

Kurt breathed in deeply the scent of coffee and cinnamon and _Blaine_. He felt lost in the heady aroma and the tender words and the boy wrapped around him. He pulled his cheek away slightly from the comfortable spot between Blaine's neck and shoulder and placed a gentle kiss to his collar. He felt Blaine's breath stutter in his chest, and his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against Kurt's back. So he continued littering featherlight kisses on his boyfriend's neck and relished the way Blaine's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and the way he hummed in pleasure.

"How are you so perfect?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt heard the desperate hitch in his boyfriend's voice, and it shot a jolt of empathy straight to his chest. He had asked the same question so many times. When Blaine smiled that special smile or batted those exquisite eyelashes or rubbed his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand. Because after all the abuse Kurt had gone through, he'd stopped hoping for this; he'd accepted he would be lonely for a long time to come. But here was, deliriously happy with a boy who was not perfect, but at moments like this, it felt like even his imperfections were perfect.

"How are you so perfect?"

Kurt raised his head, reluctantly removing his lips from the kissable skin, to gaze into his boyfriend's warm hazel eyes so full of emotion. He brushed his fingertips over Blaine's cheek, and his eyelids fluttered shut. Kurt marveled at the way those long, full eyelashes splayed so beautifully over Blaine's olive skin.

"A touch of the fingertips indeed," Blaine said, grinning blissfully.

"Don't open your eyes," Kurt whispered.

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"In a minute."

Kurt wanted a few more moments to drink in the beauty and memorize the glorious sight of Blaine with his head tilted up, lips puckered slightly, waiting for Kurt to kiss him. The knowledge that anyone wanted him overwhelmed Kurt, but this was Blaine, and that made it so much more moving. He dipped his head to press his lips lightly to his boyfriend's. The light touch wasn't enough for Blaine, who lifted his head from the comforter to press back firmly. Kurt gasped in surprise and felt his boyfriend's tongue flick between his parted lips experimentally.

Overhead, thunder boomed again with a terrible violence. Somewhere in the distance, an ambulance siren wailed. But it was all lost to Kurt, adrift in the wonderful sensation of Blaine's tongue in his mouth, exploring and rubbing against his own tongue. He heard a keening note, and identified it as high D before he recognized his own breathy moans had reached a pitch only a male soprano could release. He wanted to feel embarrassed, but really he only wanted more. More kisses, more fingertips digging into his back and hips, more Blaine.

Behind their closed eyelids, the boys did not notice the sky turning black at three o'clock in the afternoon or see the bedside lamp dim and flicker twice. They did not hear the dying buzz of a house full of electronic devices shutting off. They did, however, hear a throat clearing significantly from ten feet away.

Kurt's brow furrowed, and he made a shooing motion with his hand. He wanted Finn to go away and stop bothering him for just a little while longer. Blaine's tongue retreated from his mouth, and Kurt took the opportunity to slide his own tongue past Blaine's lips. His boyfriend made a startled, strangled sound nowhere near as sexy as Kurt's high-pitched whines. He pulled back sharply, wondering if he had done something wrong or if his body on top of Blaine's had become uncomfortable.

He gazed down at his boyfriend quizzically. Blaine lay prostrate on the bed, his face frozen between shock and panic. Kurt felt Blaine's palms leave his back and hover in the air, palms outward, as if in surrender. Blaine did not gaze at Kurt, but rather upward and to the left so that he stared at the half-open door upside down. Kurt followed his boyfriend's line of sight directly to his father, who stood awkwardly in the doorway.

Kurt let out a squeak of embarrassed surprise and scrambled off his boyfriend. Blaine sat up quickly and deftly slid across the silky comforter so there was a good three feet between them. Kurt felt his cheeks flaming. He had practically attacked Blaine with his tongue while his dad watched. Burt surveyed the two boys shrewdly, his eyes flicking between Kurt and Blaine.

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine began bravely.

Burt held up a hand, and Blaine fell silent instantly. The dark-haired boy looked even smaller than usual with his shoulders hunched and his body folding in on itself as he tried to make the smallest possible target for Burt's ire.

"I came up here to say that with the air conditioner off, it's going to get hot up here pretty quickly." Burt released a deep throated, insinuating chuckle that sent more heat to Kurt's cheeks. "You boys should come downstairs and try to stay cool until the power comes back on."

Kurt and Blaine both started and craned their necks towards the bedside lamp that had shut off fifteen minutes ago. Burt laughed again and waved his hand, prompting the boys to rise from the bed and trot across the bedroom to the door. Blaine flinched away as he passed Burt, but it was Kurt who got a heavy hand on his shoulder and a stern look from his father.

"You remember what we talked about when I gave you the pamphlets?"

Kurt thought his face could get no redder, and he saw Blaine go ghostly pale in the corner of his eye. Kurt could not believe his dad brought up the _pamphlets_ in front of his _boyfriend_, who bore the responsibility of the mortifying conversation in the first place and knew the significance of the word "pamphlets" because Kurt had given him a piece of his mind about it followed by a three day silent treatment.

"Yes," Kurt said in a small voice.

"Well …. Look. There's no point pretending. I saw what I saw even if we'd all rather I didn't. Kurt, you gotta know … Blaine matters too."

Both boys' eyes had become fixated on the carpet, but now their heads snapped up to stare disbelievingly at Burt. Blaine's jaw went slack as his mind reeled to catch up to the statement, but he felt he'd missed something vital and would never understand. Kurt sputtered indignantly, but Burt only arched an eyebrow at his son before going downstairs again.

"What … I don't … _What?_" Blaine asked.

Kurt had told Blaine about "the talk" but not in great detail. He had summarized, however, and included his dad's insistence that Kurt mattered, so his boyfriend couldn't be confused about the meaning. More likely, he didn't know how to react to Kurt's dad being as concerned for him as for his own son. It didn't surprise Kurt as much, who had once been told to respect Brittany.

"From his vantage point, I was all over you," Kurt explained.

Blaine's lips worked furiously before settling into a grin. He waggled his eyebrows, producing even more pronounced triangles that Kurt should have wanted to pluck, but really found too cute.

"Yeah, you kind of were. Not that I'm complaining," Blaine rushed to say. His cheeks turned pale pink when he added, "I really liked our first make out session."

Kurt nudged his boyfriend's shoulder, too embarrassed and elated to respond verbally, and slipped his hand into Blaine's as they made their way down the stairs and into the living room. Finn had already come downstairs and lay sprawled on the couch. He sat up when he noticed Kurt and Blaine and scooted over so they could sit.

Carole came into the room with an armload of candles a few moments later, and Blaine jumped up to take some of the jars from her. As they spaced out the candles and struck matches to light them, Kurt peered out the front window with a frown. A heavy sheet of rain obscured the view of the road, and the front yard had turned into a standing puddle. A few of the tulips just beginning to bloom in the flower bed had broken free of the topsoil and floated in a current over the sidewalk and into the driveway.

"Found it," Burt announced.

He held up an old battery-powered boom box circa 1996 complete with cassette deck in front. Kurt remembered playing Disney soundtracks on the boom box and dancing around his bedroom pretending to be Ariel and Belle. Burt tuned the radio to his favorite classic rock station, and they listened to the streaming weather report that had replaced the usual "non-stop classic rock" on Saturday afternoons.

The rainstorm Kurt had professed to love turned out to be the most rain Ohio had received in one day in the last hundred years. Creeks and rivers across the northwest corner of the state had already risen above their banks and flooded roads and highways. Flash flood warnings had been issued for seven counties, including Allen County. Most of the same area was without power. The storm system would likely last until midnight.

"No way we're letting you drive home in this. Looks like you'll be staying here for awhile," Burt said to Blaine as he switched off the radio.

Blaine smiled tightly. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel. We probably should have checked the weather report before we planned our day."

"Oh, no, sweetie," Carole said, gently shushing him. "We love having you over here. You'll just be here a little longer than usual is all. You want to call your dad and let him know? He must be worried about you."

Kurt's hand tightened instinctively on Blaine's. They had talked about their dads enough for Kurt to know three things. One, Mr. Anderson desperately wanted a straight son. Two, Blaine desperately wanted an accepting father. Three, Kurt had everything Blaine wanted. It broke his heart to think of it in those terms, and yet it was true.

When his boyfriend excused himself to retrieve his phone and make the call, Kurt turned to Carole to explain. Her kind eyes carried a trace of worry in the way they had when Coach Sylvester said Karofsky would be coming back to McKinley. He caught Finn peering at him curiously from the end of the sofa. If _Finn_ had noticed the change in atmosphere ….

"Blaine's dad … he …." Kurt sighed helplessly. "Blaine says he's not a bad guy, but he wants a straight son."

"And he's passive-aggressive about trying to get what he wants," Burt added darkly.

Carole's hand covered her mouth, and she blinked at the angry moisture collecting in her eyes. Kurt loved his stepmom more in that moment than he ever had before, even when she gave up her honeymoon to pay Dalton tuition.

"Dude," Finn began, but he had no words. He didn't need them, though, to express himself. Kurt read the sympathy in Finn's slightly confused, slightly uncomfortable face.

Blaine returned a few minutes later tucking his phone into his back pocket. He wore the calm, almost stony façade Kurt recognized from the first time they had talked about their bullies over coffee. No trace of tender, affectionate Blaine radiated through. It never did after Blaine spoke to his father, but Kurt had faith that the vulnerable boy beneath the mask would emerge again in a few hours when he remembered there were people in the world who loved him and accepted him.

"Thank you for letting me stay," Blaine said to Kurt's parents.

He didn't say his dad was okay with it or that his dad had been worried. Kurt suspected Mr. Anderson hadn't even known Blaine left the Dalton dormitory every Saturday to spend time with Kurt or stay over with one of their Warbler friends. He probably thought his poor, gay son had no friends at Dalton and only survived because of the no bullying policy.

"It's no problem," Carole reiterated. "So what do the Hummels do when the power is out and there's still a little daylight?"

Burt shrugged. "Inventory at the shop. But I'm guessing you and Finn have a tradition?"

"It's way better than inventory," Finn exclaimed.

He beamed at his newly formed family in a way Kurt would only use before announcing there was a sale going on at Bloomingdale's.

"Board games!"


	2. Rising

**Two**  
>"<strong>Rising"<strong>

Blaine trailed after the Hummels into the kitchen and helped them clear off the table while Finn bounded through the house to pull board games off the top shelf of the hall closet. Every few minutes, a flash of lightning illuminated the room and cast gnarled shadows in the recesses between overhead cabinets and countertops. Thunder boomed at regular intervals causing a constant jostling of the dead chandelier over the table.

He felt awkward and guilty barging in on a family tradition, especially one being shared between Hummels and Hudsons for the first time. He wished he'd paid attention to the weatherman on the news so he could have made other plans and not intruded like this. On the other hand, he'd gotten to make out with Kurt, and he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry about that. His boyfriend was exquisite … and blushing because Blaine was staring at him.

Blaine looked away quickly before Burt caught him ogling his son. Luckily, Finn picked that moment to enter the kitchen with an armload of boxes he put on the countertop and distracted Burt by explaining why they had to play LIFE first. From what Blaine overheard, it amounted to LIFE being the only game Finn could win without cheating.

"I call red car!" Finn said excitedly.

"Honey, we lost the red car in 1999," Carole said. "It must have been a long time since we've played if you've forgotten that."

Setting up the game took longer than normal with the low lighting. Even with the kitchen window curtains fully open and the table shoved closer, slotting the buildings into the correct locations and sorting out the currency and cards proved difficult. Eventually, Carole brought in two candles to give extra light, but kept them well away from Finn.

At last, they took their seats around the table with Kurt and Blaine on one side, Burt and Carole on the ends, and Finn with his back to the windows. Blaine fidgeted for a moment while Carole doled out the paper money from the bank.

"I don't know how to play this game," he admitted. He decided to get the worst of it over with, and nodded to the stack of games still on the counter. "Actually, I don't know how to play any of those games."

"Not even Monopoly? Or Clue?" Finn asked.

"I know the basic idea, but …. No, not really. My family didn't play board games."

He saw no need to explain that his parents couldn't stand to be around each other long enough to suffer through a board game. After their divorce, Blaine might have played with them separately except he had gotten to that age when board games lost their appeal.

"We'll walk you through it," Carole said, patting his hand. "LIFE is a really simple game."

"Thank you," he answered sheepishly. "I'm sorry – "

"You can stop apologizing for things out of your control," Burt said not unkindly. "We don't mind having you here, and we don't mind teaching you how to play our favorite games."

When everyone had selected their cars and put a person peg into the driver's seat, they lined up on the "Go to College" track. At least, Blaine and Kurt did. Carole eyed Finn steadily until he relented and nudged his car next to theirs.

"It's just a game, Mom. I'm going to go to college, but you get more pay days in the game if you get a job right away and you don't have loans to pay back," Finn argued.

His mom waved off the explanation as subpar.

"I've never asked what you want to do with your life, Blaine," Burt remarked.

Blaine twisted the spinner and moved forward seven spaces until he stopped on the "Pick a Career" space. While Carole fanned out the cards for him, Blaine gave the best answer he had at the moment.

"Music. I'd love to be a singer because I love performing, but I'm not the best songwriter. I don't really respect singers who don't write their own music, so I'd need to get better at it. I used to do drama at my old school, so I can safely say musical theater is _not_ for me." He laughed lightly at an old memory. "My dad's alma mater doesn't have the best music program, though, so I don't know if that will work out."

He felt grateful they didn't ask which part wouldn't work out: going to his dad's university or studying music.

The game continued with Finn pulling further ahead after a lucky series of spins, but Blaine stayed close behind him. His next turn earned him a ten on the spinner, but he had to stop at three spaces to get married, according to the stop sign on the board. While Carole counted out the money for the payday he'd passed, Burt fished through the Ziploc baggie with game pieces and slotted a person peg into the passenger seat. Blaine froze when he turned back to the game board.

Two little blue pegs sat in the front seat of his car, and Kurt's dad had put them there.

Blaine's eyes fell to his lap where his and Kurt's interlocked hands lay on his thigh. He blinked rapidly against the moisture building in his eyes, because he did not want to tear up in front of his boyfriend's family, especially over something as simple as the color of a game piece. But the gesture meant more to him than he could say.

Kurt kept a tight hold on his hand and rubbed comforting circles with his thumb. He felt light and disconnected, very much like he had his first day at Dalton when he still had the bruises from the beating he'd gotten at the Sadie Hawkins dance. He hadn't believed a place like Dalton really existed; he hadn't believed a family like the Hummels really existed.

Blaine clung to Kurt's touch like a lifeline keeping him tethered to the here and now. At times, he found it too difficult to believe this amazing boy wanted him after all the mistakes he'd made, but then Kurt would take his hand or bump his shoulder or kiss him and he could slip back into a blissfully happy reality where he didn't judge himself too harshly because he had Kurt to occupy his thoughts.

However simple LIFE was meant to be, Blaine did not do very well in the end. Finn had cleaned up, coming in a cool million ahead of everyone else. Kurt had done fairly well, though, probably due to the fact that he'd managed to avoid children. Blaine had been saddled with four, which he might not mind in real life, but had cost him a fortune in the game.

"How is it looking outside?" Burt asked, as they cleared away the game.

Blaine paused with a stack of career cards in hand to peer out the kitchen windows. What he saw took his breath away. The thunder and lightning had stopped sometime during their game, but the sky remained an angry, roiling gray. Rain continued to lash the windows, and a steady stream of falling water covered the glass so that the whole world looked wobbly and fuzzy. The real shock, however, was the backyard. Water flooded over the porch, and all of Carole's potted plants had been washed out into the yard where they bobbed around the garden shed or drifted into the neighbor's yards.

"In forty-five minutes?" Carole asked, a touch of worry in her voice.

They took a break from the games to listen to the radio again. The DJ still had not switched back to playing music, but continued to talk about the amount of flooding and the rate of rainfall. Burt trudged down the hall, and the squeaking of a rarely used door opening echoed through the silent house. He swore loudly.

"The basement's starting to flood. Help me clear out some of the stuff we stored down there."

No one needed to be asked twice. Kurt loaned Blaine a pair of boots so he didn't ruin his shoes, and they began the arduous task of trudging up and down the steps lugging boxes of clothes, photo albums, collectables, and tools into the spare bedroom. Fortunately, the Hummel's basement was not finished so the rising water would do nothing more than give it a musty smell. The alarming rate at which the basement filled up, however, did concern everyone.

"I'm thinking anything marked McQueen has to find its way upstairs first?" Blaine asked, amused.

He had discovered a whole wall of shelves full of boxes labeled by designer, season, and year in Kurt's neat handwriting. His boyfriend's obsession with fashion – because after seeing this many boxes meticulously cataloged he couldn't call it anything else – would never cease to amuse him. He thought back to their first few weeks of friendship, when he used to drive to Lima still in his Dalton uniform to see Kurt, and wondered what Kurt had thought of him then.

"What? No! Leave the clothes," Kurt ordered.

Blaine's neck snapped in his boyfriend's direction. He sloshed through the ankle-deep water to the shelving unit where Kurt worried over which box to salvage first. Blaine didn't recognize the handwriting on these boxes, but he could guess who had labeled them well enough and what they meant to Kurt.

"Start here?"

He gripped the box marked "Baby Hummel – Louisa/Kurt" and waited for Kurt's nod. When he got it, he deftly slid the box of mementos from the shelf. It felt too light, like most of what Elizabeth Hummel had saved had been removed, maybe by a lonely little boy who missed his mom and wanted memories of their time together in his room.

"Are those Kurt's clothes? If they are, put them in his room," Burt directed.

"Uh, no. It's … no."

He started a pile separate from the other items being brought up, and he noticed Finn had his own secret stash in another part of the room. Blaine's heart went out to the boys who had too few memories of their late parents. Then he wondered where mementos of his childhood were stored and if either of his parents had thought to document their son's early life or if they had been too occupied coming up with excuses to scream at each other.

Blaine did not allow himself to dwell. He raced downstairs to retrieve more of the boxes and didn't stop rushing until every box in Elizabeth Hummel's handwriting – ending with "Cheerios" – was safely stored two floors above the flooding. Kurt sagged against the wall, partly with relief and partly with exhaustion, Blaine thought.

"I don't think there's anything else we can do," Burt said, breathing heavily.

Blaine saw Kurt watching with concern as his dad wiped sweat off his forehead. If the house had become a little warm without the air conditioning on, it had become downright hot after climbing two flights of stairs carrying heavy boxes for three straight hours.

He wondered if anyone else noticed Burt and Carole had called a halt only after all of their family history had been saved and that they ignored thousands of dollars worth of designer clothes still in the basement.

"I'm hungry," Finn grumbled, as he collapsed onto the couch. "Is it time for dinner yet?"

"We might as well start eating anything we can save from the freezer," Carole said. "No telling how long it will take them to get the power back on. I hope we have enough food in the house to feed three teenage boys."

The boys in question grinned, but Carole looked dead serious. She made Burt sit down and rest while she went to pull items from the freezer. She wouldn't allow Finn to help because he would stand in front of the freezer and let in too much hot air. In ten minutes, she called them in for a dinner of soft ice cream and refreshingly cold fruit salad.

"This is it?" Finn asked sadly.

"Unless you want to eat a bag of frozen peas."

"I'm gonna starve."

It might have been a trick of the light, but Blaine could have sworn Finn's chin wobbled. His mother laughed lightly and patted his cheek.

"Oh, Finn. We have other food too. This is all I could save from the freezer. Sit down."

Carole rummaged through the refrigerator next. She tossed a packet of individually sliced cheese, jars of pickles and maraschino cherries, half a cold pizza, and a gallon of milk, along with a sparse salad made from the vegetables in the crisper onto the table. It was the strangest meal Blaine had ever eaten. The sheer bizarreness of asking Burt to "pass the cheese slices, please" had to count as some kind of bonding experience.

By the time their eclectic dinner had come to an end, twilight had fallen. It was too dark to play games or read, so they retreated into the living room to pass the evening hours in whatever way they could find. As they gained their usual places on couches and recliners an easy silence fell over the family filled only by the pounding of torrential rain on the rooftop.


	3. Singalong

**Three**  
>"<strong>Sing-along"<strong>

For a while, they kept up a relaxed stream of conversation. Burt, Finn, and Blaine spoke about the baseball season about to start. Finn liked the Reds, and Blaine supported the Cardinals. While they debated the merits of one team over the other, with Burt playing the moderator who liked both teams, Carole and Kurt talked about summer fashions and Kurt's loathing of flip-flops.

Eventually Burt let the baseball conversation continue unmonitored since it seemed neither Finn nor Blaine got overly passionate about their teams. Not that Burt expected Blaine to insult anyone or start a fight over sports. The kid was just too polite for that.

With the baseball speculation continuing without him, Burt felt free to notice some things he might have otherwise missed. For starters, the way Kurt and Blaine carried on separate conversations, but remained attached. He'd noticed before that his son liked to hold hands. Elizabeth had liked that too, and she'd naturally passed it on to their little boy.

Burt had never seen Kurt hold anyone's hand except himself and Elizabeth. It left a lump in his throat to see Kurt share the open display of trust and security and love with someone else. He had seen it coming from the very beginning, from the day Kurt had come home and confessed he'd gone to spy on the Warblers.

"I met a boy there," Kurt had said. Then, the words had frozen Burt's heart, because "a boy" could corrupt his son, could break his heart, could crush his sensitive spirit even worse than those ignorant jocks at McKinley. Then Kurt had said he was going to see a musical with "the boy I met at Dalton" and going to Breadstix with him and spending long days shopping in Westerville.

And Burt had worried more, because did that mean Kurt had a boyfriend and was hiding him? If Kurt was hiding him did that mean Burt wouldn't approve of the kid or that Kurt was afraid he would have a problem with two boys dating in general? And, God, which upset him more, Kurt dating someone unworthy of him or Kurt's perception that he still didn't completely accept his sexuality? He'd lost so much sleep, more than he'd ever tell Kurt about, because Kurt would worry too late after the fact to change anything that he might have made his heart condition worse.

Then came the news about the death threat, and Kurt had confessed the Dalton boy, a boy named Blaine, had tried to help him deal with Karofsky. The worrying stopped then. Not entirely, because no parent can stop worrying entirely over their children. But worries about "a boy" faded into the back of Burt's mind, because this kid, whoever this kid was, had stood up to Kurt's bullies and had made him just a little happier during such a dark time. How could Burt not approve of their friendship or relationship or whatever it was even if he hadn't met the kid yet?

Sure, Blaine had made some missteps he'd heard about from his angry or hurt son, but who didn't make mistakes? They made it right in the end, the way that best friends and couples always did because all relationships take a lot of work, and Burt had been proud of them for making the effort.

When Kurt had come home the day before his Regionals competition, Burt knew something had changed by his nervous energy. He had it in the back of his mind to drive over to Dalton and murder Blaine in his bed, because so soon after the kid came to him in the shop, Kurt looked about ready to faint from nerves, and Burt just _knew_. But, no, Kurt had not lost his virginity; he'd gotten his first kiss, and the innocence of it all had touched Burt's heart.

So watching his son holding Blaine's hand now, it did something more profound to Burt than walking in on their make out session earlier because he understood how much the gesture meant to Kurt, and that he shared it with Blaine, who Burt liked and respected, it changed Burt, made him see their relationship just a little differently.

"Dad?"

Kurt's voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he realized he'd been staring at Blaine and Kurt's linked hands. Kurt's brow arched dramatically, and no surprise because Burt Hummel wasn't the kind of man to lapse into deep philosophical thoughts. Blaine looked terrified he'd overstepped, and his hand twitched in Kurt's, like he wanted to retreat from all signs of affection with Kurt.

It killed Burt a little to see that happen in front of his very eyes. To hear about Blaine's dad when he hardly knew the kid had been one thing, but to see the aftershocks of a father's disapproval, it shook him to his core, because if Mr. Anderson had such a deep impact on Blaine, then surely Burt had the same hold over Kurt, and that was a heavy responsibility.

"Sorry. Just … thinking. What did I miss?"

"We were just talking about how bored we are, but we're not tired yet, and we wondered if anyone had some suggestions on how to pass the time," Carole summarized.

When Burt looked back at the teenagers, he saw Blaine had managed to get his hand free of Kurt's. He felt ashamed his attention had been misconstrued and angry that any kid should feel uncomfortable showing they cared about someone else. In this day and age, that kind of selflessness was commendable.

So Burt made a decision right then and there to show Blaine this house was safe, safer even than Dalton, because in this house everyone genuinely accept everyone else, no special policy required.

"Well, we've got three singers right here," Burt said, gesturing to the teenagers. "Kurt used to put on concerts all the time when he was little. Why not sing for us now?"

"Because we don't have power for our iPods and we don't want to waste the radio battery?" Finn guessed.

"Yeah, but you can sing a capella, right? The Warblers sounded great at Regionals. Especially your duet," Burt answered.

Kurt and Blaine blushed shyly under the praise and reminder of how they become a couple and turned their eyes to the carpet. Finn shouted at everyone to wait for a minute and raced upstairs. He came back down with an acoustic guitar.

"It's Puck's old guitar. He gave it to me so I could try and teach myself. I'm not very good yet, but I can play a couple songs," Finn explained. "Well, I can play one song. Half a song."

Burt chuckled lightly at his stepson. He couldn't help but love Finn. There was something so pure about his outlook and how honest he was with everyone around him. He'd grown up a lot in the past year too, but he hadn't lost his almost child-like perception of the world.

"Blaine can play," Kurt said.

The dark-haired boy immediately begged off when Finn tried to hand over the guitar. "I don't really play much either. I only taught myself a little to keep up with stringed instruments when I stopped violin lessons."

"Violin _and_ piano," Kurt mused. "Anything else I should know about your musical talents?"

"I can sing fluently in Italian."

Kurt breathed in deeply, and Burt looked away sharply before he had to see his little boy turn into lovestruck mush in front of his very eyes. Some things a father did not want to see whether their sons were straight or gay, and mooning over their significant other was one of those things.

In the end, Carole convinced Blaine to accept the guitar and tune it by saying how much she loved his voice, and could he sing something for her please, but not one of those terrible pop songs the Warblers love to do. Kurt had erupted into a fit of laughter, and a clearly amused Blaine accepted the challenge.

"I can play this one pretty well because I cover it in most of my shows. I'm sure you know this one," Blaine said to Carole. "Sing along, if you like. Finn said he got his voice from you."

"So charming," Carole said, grinning madly.

Blaine scooted to the edge of the couch and balanced the guitar on his lap. He looked even tinier than usual behind the instrument, but when he began strumming and singing, he captivated his audience. The beating rain against the house provided an eerie beat to the already haunting melody.

"_One fine day  
>You'll look at me<br>And then you'll know our love was meant to be  
>One fine day<br>You're gonna want me for your girl."  
><em>

Burt did know the song. It twisted his gut to hear such a heartfelt version in Blaine's sorrowful voice. Classically sang as a love song, it took on a new meaning in the dark, quiet house this stormy night.

_"The arms I long for  
>Will open wide<br>Then you'll be proud to have me right by your side  
>One fine day<br>You're gonna want me for your girl."  
><em>

Burt didn't know a lot of this music stuff like the boys did. Kurt got all his musical talent from Elizabeth. But there was no doubt in his mind Blaine sang this to his father, who according to Kurt, had never come to a single one of his son's performances.

_"Ooh, now I know you're kind of a boy  
>Who only wants to run alone<br>I'll keep waiting  
>And some day, darling<br>You'll come to me when you want to settle down."  
><em>

No one sang along because no one could match Blaine's command of the longing behind the words. No one here knew what it was to crave acceptance that, in all likelihood, would never come. The Hummel-Hudsons had each other, no matter what the world threw at them. But this vulnerable boy singing to a father who wasn't listening had … who? Burt had never heard a mother or siblings mentioned.

_"Oh, one fine day  
>We'll meet once more<br>And then you'll want the love you threw away before  
>One fine day<br>You're gonna want me for your girl."_

Kurt looked damned near tears by the time the song concluded. He slipped his arms around his boyfriend's neck, the guitar perched precariously in Blaine's lap be damned. Burt saw the smaller boy's eyes flick in his direction, take in his reaction, widen slightly at torture expression there. And, again, he misunderstood, because no adult male had ever reacted any differently.

"You've got a hell of a voice, kid," Burt said. "And I wouldn't just say that, because Carole King is sacred around this house. She was my mom's favorite singer. I grew up listening to her music."

"Oh, Blaine," Carole whispered. Like Kurt, she had tears in her eyes. "That was … oh, that was amazing, sweetheart."

"I have no idea how we beat you guys," Finn mumbled. "Oh, wait. I do. You picked Pink as your anthem."

The jest lightened the mood just enough to allow everyone to crack a smile. They all knew Pink was not the reason the judges voted for New Directions, but after the song dedicated to an absent, disapproving father, no one wanted to even hint at homophobia.

"Are you taking requests?" Burt wondered.

"Like I said, I don't know a lot of songs," Blaine prefaced. "But if I know it, we'll sing it." He glanced to his left to make sure Finn and Kurt agreed. They both nodded their approval.

"I hope you know some classic rock because there's a beautiful, brown-eyed girl who needs to be serenaded, but I can't sing, so I need some help."

Burt climbed out of his recliner and held out a hand for Carole as Blaine began strumming the opening notes. All three boys sang the melody to "Brown Eyed Girl" heedless of trying to find a harmony. Their voices could have made a beautiful one, Burt felt sure, but the Van Morrison song almost demanded unabashed, sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs fervor. He wasn't surprised Finn jumped up to spin his mom around the room a few times nor to hear Blaine and Kurt change he chorus to "blue-eyed boy" and "green-eyed boy" respectively. All five voices practically shouted out the sha-la-la-la-la's.

"Just keep going, Blaine!" Carole cried breathlessly as the song concluded. "Whatever you know, let's all just sing!"

Blaine transitioned into some song Burt didn't know, but Finn and Kurt sang along with gusto, and it was peppy enough to keep Carole dancing around the living room. He surmised at the chorus it was called "Rhythm of Love."

Despite Blaine's insistence that he didn't know many songs, he played for as long as they wanted him to. He missed some notes, and had to pause and apologize while he started again, but no one minded. They all collapsed into their seats again, breathless and laughing and a little sweaty an hour later.

"I haven't danced around the house in years," Carole said. "I feel like a kid again. Thank you, boys. But I think the old folks need to go to bed. I have work tomorrow morning, and nurses are required to report come hell or high water, which I think will be rather literal in this case."

When Burt bid his good-nights, he hesitated for a moment, debating what to say to Kurt and Blaine. He wanted the kids to know he approved, but he was also a responsible parent. It was the eternal struggle between being a father and being a friend when he really wanted to be both.

"You know the rules," Burt said. "The door stays open."

Kurt's whole face lit up; Blaine looked like Burt had just proven unicorns existed, like something wonderful and magical had just happened. Burt didn't make a big deal about it. He just followed Carole to their bedroom like this occurred every day.

"Make sure you blow out all the candles before you go to bed," he called as an afterthought. "I don't know if you could burn down the house in this rain, but just in case."

Laughter followed him down the hallway, and some quiet discussion occurred before Blaine started strumming the guitar again. Burt and Carole fell asleep halfway through a melodic song that reminded Burt of beaches and summer.


	4. Watershed

**Four**  
>"<strong>Watershed"<strong>

Nightfall and the constant pounding rain had lowered the temperature outside enough that sleeping on the second floor of the house was comfortable. Blaine had borrowed a pair of Dalton sweats from Kurt, and the brothers retired to their respective bedrooms sometimes after midnight.

Kurt and Blaine lay wrapped up in each other's arms with the comforter pushed down to their feet and only a thin sheet over their bodies. Although the hands on the battery-powered alarm clock had ticked past one o'clock now, the boys lay in the black silence listening to the rain beat on the roof. In the darkness, they traced jaws and noses and lips with their fingertips and worked their hands through silky hair and twirled fingers around curls.

Blaine leaned in first and pressed his lips to his boyfriend's, but it was a chaste kiss. Kurt relished the feeling of Blaine's warm, dry lips against his despite the brevity. The door was open, and his parents slept close by. Burt had trusted them to behave, and Kurt felt proud to have a boyfriend who respected him enough to not seduce him into inappropriate behavior.

"Are you tired?" Blaine whispered.

They lay so close together his breath ghosted over Kurt's face, and he smelled the minty toothpaste kept in the upstairs bathroom. Kurt leaned forward and connected their lips again. Blaine laughed lightly into the kiss.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Are you tired?"

"No."

Comfortable silence settled between them while the staccato of the beating rain increased suddenly. It drummed on the roof and pinged off the weathervanes, and the gushing roar of a waterfall over the side of the house added itself into the mix.

"You can kiss me more," Kurt whispered.

"But your dad …"

"I love that you don't want to break his rules, but the door is open, and we won't be doing anything we wouldn't in the bright light of day."

"I know. It feels more sordid at night is all."

Kurt bit his bottom lip just slightly to keep from laughing. He heard Finn snoring through their shared wall, but he didn't want to rouse his brother by giggling too loudly. He rested his forehead against Blaine's, and his boyfriend sighed contentedly in a way that sent Kurt's heart fluttering.

"There is nothing sordid about spending the night in a baby penguin's bed." Blaine's breath did a funny tremble that Kurt had never heard before. "Blaine?"

"Oh, Kurt. If you'd heard those sounds you made this afternoon you'd never compare yourself to a baby penguin again."

A shiver travelled up Blaine's frame, and Kurt couldn't help but respond to the compliment with a kiss. This time it was not chaste, but rough and needy. He sucked Blaine's top lip between his own, and his foot traced the outline of Blaine's calf. From the whining in his boyfriend's throat, Kurt guessed he'd done something very right, so it surprised him when Blaine's hand came between them to push their bodies apart.

"Kurt. No, we can't."

Kurt pushed past the stinging rejection he felt to notice how rigid Blaine's body had become against his roaming hands and legs. His boyfriend froze up like this so rarely when they were alone and usually only when Kurt stated a contrary opinion too forcefully. Normally, Kurt would read the reason in Blaine's expressive hazel eyes, but in the pitch black he had to rely on words.

"Blaine, talk to me," he pleaded softly.

The other boy expelled a deep breath, but he said nothing. Kurt's brow furrowed, and his mind worked through endless possibilities even as his fingers began a steady, soothing pattern in Blaine's curls that he knew his boyfriend loved.

"Please, Blaine."

A shuddering breath came from Blaine, and an unexpected wetness trickled over Kurt's palms. He sucked in a deep breath and scrambled closer. Blaine rolled into his comforting warmth and buried his face in the soft material of Kurt's pajamas. Kurt held on tightly, letting his boyfriend cry into his shoulder while he made gentle hushing noises and stroked his fingers through his hair.

Kurt had cried in front of Blaine plenty of times. He was an emotional person, and he'd accepted that he dealt with sadness through tears. From the first day they met, Kurt had recognized another emotional soul in Blaine. The way his eyes filled with empathy, sorrow, wonderment, and happiness affirmed Kurt's belief time and again that, like him, Blaine experienced the world through his feelings.

One thing Blaine's eyes had never filled with, however, was tears. No matter how hurt or angry or sad he got, Blaine never cried, never let himself come even close to that emotional edge. While Kurt let out his tears, Blaine buried them deep behind a dapper façade.

Holding his crying boyfriend now, Kurt couldn't stave off his own tears. He had seen many sides of Blaine in the months they'd known each other, but never this one, the Blaine that had been bullied out of his school and fled his home. He felt something stir deep within him, a kind of resonating bittersweet echo, as his boyfriend opened up to him completely.

"I'm sorry," Blaine mumbled and tried to pull away.

Kurt pressed his fingertips into Blaine's head and kept him in place against his shoulder. He felt Blaine relax against his body again and bring a hand up to brush the tears off his cheeks. For a long while, Kurt remained silent, giving Blaine time to compose himself.

"Something tells me my kisses didn't prompt this," Kurt spoke into Blaine's hair.

"No. Definitely not." Blaine's lips curved against Kurt's collarbone.

"Talk to me, Blaine. Please. Tell me what you're thinking."

Blaine went quiet for so long Kurt thought he would refuse to answer. They had never purposefully kept information from each other, and he feared it beginning now. Even when the truth had been uncomfortable and hurtful, they had been honest with each other.

"You are so lucky, Kurt."

Blaine's voice came as little more than a breath through barely moving lips, and Kurt strained to hear him as he went on.

"Your family is incredible, and I always knew they were because you told me about them. I got that from the times I've been here before too, but …. But it's one thing to know you have a gay son, and it's something else entirely to see it. And I'm just …. The way your dad looks at me sometimes, Kurt. I'm so afraid I'm going to mess up this great relationship you have with him just by being here. I feel like I should stay away for your sake."

Kurt swallowed thickly because of Blaine's tortured speech and the freshly falling tears dropping onto his thin cotton shirt and the pain this beautiful boy in his arms had known.

"But then sometimes he'll look at me completely differently or he'll say something like how I matter. I hope so badly that, maybe, he likes me enough that you can have a relationship with me _and_ him. I just … I remember what happened with my dad, though, and I can't let that happen to you, Kurt. I don't want you to ever go through that."

Kurt tried to process all of this and find the right place to begin, but his head reeled with these damaged thoughts Blaine had kept bottled up for far too long. He had so much to say, to reassure Blaine about, but a question niggled at the back of his mind.

"Did your dad used to be more accepting?"

Blaine nodded against Kurt's shoulder. "When I first came out, it didn't matter to him. Then I made the mistake of telling him the first time I kissed a boy. It all changed then. That's when the Mustang showed up for us to rebuild together."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt breathed. "I'm so sorry. It's very sweet of you to care so much about me. It's one of the many reasons I'm with you. What you're afraid of, though, it won't happen. Nothing will ever come between me and my dad."

For a moment, nothing changed. Then Blaine's shoulders began to shake, and Kurt eyes swam because he wished there was some way he could have worded that differently to cause his boyfriend less pain, but he'd been caught either way. All he could do was hold Blaine while he let out the pain he'd kept buried for too long.

"My dad likes you, you know. He told me as much and just that bluntly. After you kissed me and asked me to be your boyfriend, I came home on cloud nine for Friday night dinner. Of course I can't hide anything from my dad. He knew right away something had happened, so I told them we were dating. My dad said, 'Good. I'm happy for you, kid. You deserve someone who cares about you. Bring him home for dinner next week.' So that's why I invited you Monday morning over coffee."

Kurt knew he was rambling, but his voice seemed to calm Blaine. He sniffled and wiped at his cheeks again before answering.

"Yeah, and left me worrying about the big meet-the-parents meal all week."

Kurt rolled his eyes though he knew Blaine couldn't see. "You'd already met them ten or twelve times. I didn't think it would be a big deal."

"Well, it was! I'd never met anyone's parents as "the boyfriend." I was terrified."

They lapsed into silence and fell into a pattern of stroking skin softly with fingertips. Kurt couldn't let this end here, however. He had more to say, more that Blaine needed to hear and believe was true.

"You said something about the way my dad looks at you sometimes. I'm not saying I catch every glance my dad gives you, but … Blaine, he's never been disapproving. Like I said, he likes you. Don't get me wrong, he was plenty pissed after you told him to give me "the talk" and suspicious that you asked me to be your boyfriend two weeks later, but he does like you. He approves of straightforward people, and you are nothing if not direct, Blaine Anderson."

Kurt felt the smile on his boyfriend's lips just before Blaine lifted his head and sank back into the pillow.

"I believe you, Kurt. As a person, he likes me. But as your boyfriend?"

Kurt sighed sadly, but he refrained from pushing the issue. Everyone had their own problems to work out. Kurt's happened to be about sex; Blaine had a heap of daddy issues. He wanted to impress upon his boyfriend how much Burt approved, but he kept quiet. Blaine didn't pressure him, so Kurt wouldn't push either.

Like everything else they had gone up against, they would do it together. And maybe they would make some mistakes along the way, but Kurt had faith they could come through it together. Maybe they had only been a couple for a few weeks, but they had been partners forever.

"Are you tired?" Kurt asked.

"Yes."

Blaine sounded more than tired; he sounded exhausted. Kurt leaned closer and pressed a kiss so gentle to his boyfriend's lips he felt nothing more than a tickling brush. They shifted around a little awkwardly for a few moments. They had never shared a bed longer than the length of a movie and didn't know the sleeping protocol.

"Kurt? Can … Can I be the little spoon?"

"Of course you can."

Kurt held his arms open while Blaine turned over onto his other side facing the open door. He debated where to place his hands and how to hold Blaine without bending his own limbs at uncomfortable angles.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked after a few moments of missing Kurt's touch.

"The damned pamphlets didn't cover this," Kurt grumbled. "I know all about bl – uh, _stuff_ – but there wasn't a cuddle guide in the entire bunch."

Blaine burst into a fit of laughter and buried his face in the pillow to muffle the sound. Kurt joined a minute later once he got past the affront of his boyfriend guffawing at him. In the next room, Finn's snores stuttered for a moment.

"I'll be the big spoon," Blaine said at last.

"No, no. I'll figure this out. Isn't the taller one usually the big spoon anyway?"

Kurt didn't expect the pillow that hit him in the chest or Blaine's arms wrapping securely around him and rolling him onto his other side so he faced the window. Blaine didn't have trouble maneuvering into a comfortable position.

"Just for that crack, I _am_ going to be the big spoon," Blaine whispered in his ear.

"You know I can use that against you, right? I can make you hold doors for me and pull out chairs and buy me nice things all because you have height envy."

Blaine snuggled up close against Kurt and pressed his forehead to the back of Kurt's neck. He smiled against the skin there and hummed sleepily.

"I already do all those things and so do you. The more I think about it, the more I think we've got it right. Heteronormative gender roles demean everyone."

Kurt marveled at Blaine's ability to remain eloquent even on the edge of sleep, but his own weariness kept him from saying so. As they settled down to sleep with their breathing evening out, Kurt struggled against sleep long enough to make one last request of his boyfriend.

"Promise you won't forget what I've said."

He wondered if Blaine had already fallen asleep, but Blaine was awake still and gave a languid reply muffled against Kurt's skin.

"I promise."


	5. Flotsam

**Five**  
>"<strong>Flotsam"<strong>

The alarm clock roused Carole from sleep just after five in the morning. She silenced the alarm quickly and glanced over to make sure she hadn't woken Burt. Satisfied that her husband still slept soundly, she crept out of bed and into the master bathroom. Like every day she worked the day shift, she had put her scrubs in the bathroom the night before.

Fifteen minutes later, she eased the bedroom door closed and padded down the hallway to the living room where she was surprised to find Blaine sleeping on the couch. She had expected Burt to find him curled up around Kurt later this morning. He reminded her of Finn when he slept, sprawled out with his dark hair a mess and his young face totally unguarded.

She slipped into the kitchen and tested the light switch, but the chandelier did not flick on. Carole hadn't realized how much she relied on the coffeemaker and microwave for breakfast until she couldn't have coffee or oatmeal and resorted to scrounging through Finn's snack cabinet for a packet of Pop Tarts.

Either she had slammed the cabinet door without realizing or Blaine had the ears of a fox because he stumbled into the kitchen a few moments after Carole wrestled the foil packaging open. He tottered a little and rubbed at bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes. Carole's maternal instinct urged her to draw the boy into her arms and comfort him, but she didn't because he was a teenager and not her child.

"Good morning, Blaine. I didn't mean to wake you."

Blaine mumbled something she couldn't catch and struggled to climb onto one of the stools at the island counter. He blinked dumbly at the napkin holder, and then slowly turned his eyes to gaze in her direction. He started, as if noticing her there for the first time. His hands flew to his unruly curls in a vain attempt to smooth them down.

"Good luck," she chuckled.

He flushed and ducked his head. He blinked very slowly at common objects like he had never seen them before, and Carole struggled not to coo at the sleepy boy.

"You don't have to stay up with me if you want to go back to bed."

"Can't," he stated, his voice thick with sleep.

"Are you sure? You look like you're about to fall off your seat."

He rubbed vigorously at his face and forced himself to sit up straighter. Carole dared to open the refrigerator and pull out one of the bottles of orange juice Finn usually took before leaving the house for school. It felt warm in her palm, but not yet room temperature. He gratefully drank down half the bottle in one breath.

"I can't sleep with Kurt," he explained, and then realizing his choice of words, rushed to add, "In the same bed, I mean. I can't sleep in the same bed with Kurt."

"Oh? Does he kick or steal the covers? Or does he snore? Because if he snores, I know a few men in this house who would love to know about it."

Blaine shook his head. "No. I've never shared a bed with anyone. I kept waking up for no reason. That's probably weird."

Carole made a note of that as further proof that Kurt and Blaine were good kids who didn't steal away to each other's beds at Dalton. She didn't kid herself that they would stay virginal sweethearts forever – maybe not even for very much longer, considering they were both attractive boys – but it did comfort her to know that someone as romantic as Kurt had found a sweet, boy-next-door boyfriend.

"When I first started dating Christopher, I hated sharing a bed. I thought falling asleep together would be sweet and sexy until I woke up with an armpit in my face. That man could not stay on his side of the bed. You'll get used to it, though, and one day sleeping without Kurt will feel like the worst thing in the world. But for right now, don't think there's anything weird about it."

He smiled gratefully for the advice and understanding and the implied approval of his relationship with Kurt. Carole knew the way these teenage boys worked. Talking directly about their feelings to an adult sent them running for the hills, but imply something to a smart kid like Blaine, and they'd understand perfectly.

Blaine slid off the stool and wandered over to the window. The sun had only just begun to rise, but the dim rays already revealed a wrecked backyard. The water had receded some overnight, though a few inches of muddy water still flooded everything. Debris carried from all over the neighborhood littered the porch and yard. A lighter, but still steady, rain fell from the lightening sky.

"Do you have to go to work? I don't mean to keep you."

"Let's find out."

Carole brought in the radio and turned the volume down so they could listen to the weather report. Another two feet of rain had fallen overnight, and meteorologists predicted this steady rain would continue for days, but the worst had passed. A travel restriction had been placed on most of the northwest part of the state because of washed out bridges and standing water.

"If the roads are clear from here to the hospital, they'll send an escort to take me to work," Carole explained. "I probably won't be home for a long time if that's the case. Nurses aren't allowed to leave unless they're relieved, and I'm guessing a lot of people who live out in the country are stranded."

She dialed into work on the landline and spoke with the hospital administrator's secretary. From the background noise and her own experience, Carole knew the whole hospital would be bedlam. Nurses from yesterday's day shift would still be stranded there with only a few from the night shift able to make it in as relief, and the ER would be overflowing. Carole, however, was excused from work.

"They can't get to us, so I'm here all day," she said, disconnecting the call.

"But there's hardly any water left," Blaine said, craning his neck to look out the window again.

"No, but we're in a higher part of Lima. Other parts of the county aren't so lucky to have just a basement full of water and a messy backyard."

Blaine yawned widely. He looked dead on his feet, but determined to stay awake and talk to her. Carole had never met a kid quite like him before. She wondered what in God's name his parents were thinking not to cherish this boy and recognize how lucky they were to have him. Every day, Carole saw kids come into the ER with honest to goodness problems – drug addictions, unplanned pregnancies, STDs, psychological disorders. The Andersons should thank their lucky stars that when Blaine sat down to talk to them, he'd said, 'I'm gay.'

"Blaine, can I ask you about your mom? You don't mention her much."

He shrugged. "She lives in Boston, so I don't get to see her very often. She's an artist."

Carole wondered what could take a mother three states away from her son who clearly did not have the support system he needed from his father. She wondered too what Finn would say when asked about her. She hoped he would say more than where she lived and what she did because she hoped she'd played a greater part in his life than that. She tried not to judge Mrs. Anderson (or the ex-Mrs. Anderson, in this case), but it was difficult not to while watching the sadness creep into Blaine's eyes.

"What about the rest of your family? Do you have any siblings?"

"I have a brother."

"Does he go to Dalton too?"

"No. He's three years older."

The conversation sat uneasily with Carole. Blaine had always been so forthcoming with information, but she felt like she was pulling teeth to get even the most basic information from him right now, and she suspected it had nothing to do with him being tired. There was a story in his reluctance, and she didn't think she would be the one to wrest it out of him.

"I'm prying. I apologize," she said.

Carole stood up from her seat to throw the remains of her breakfast away. As she passed Blaine, she rubbed his back in the way that always made Finn feel better. Blaine made almost the same face her son did, a quick and easy lopsided smile, while he leaned into the touch. It stopped her heart to see and called out to her maternal protectiveness again, as it seemed everything about Blaine did.

"No, you're not. I'm just being …. Alec and I aren't very close anymore. You know what Dalton tuition costs and how much has to be sacrificed to pay for it. I'm going to the best private prep school in the state. Alec graduated from Westerville High."

She kept her back to Blaine while she processed the words and their implications. Finn hated that Kurt left McKinley, but not out of any ill-conceived jealousy. He wanted his brother at the same school because they were friends and glee club needed Kurt's voice. Whether he realized it or not, Blaine had revealed something Carole and Burt had wondered for a long time – the Anderson's financial situation. They were, apparently, not filthy rich after all, which made the fortune Blaine spent in gas to come see Kurt so often that much more significant.

She wondered if this boy would ever stop saying things to make her love him more.

"Blaine, look at me." He complied, and she fixed him with a fierce gaze to drive home her point. "I don't know what the situation at Westerville High was like for you, but if it was anything like what happened to Kurt at McKinley, no one should blame you for leaving. You have every right to be safe."

He turned away quickly. "Kurt had it worse."

"I'm not so sure about that."

She said it without really thinking and didn't realize she honestly meant it until she heard herself say it. Kurt had gone through hell at school, and she wasn't discounting that, but he had come home to a safe place where he was surrounded by people who loved and accepted him. Blaine had not.

"If you're not going back to sleep, you can help me try and find camping gear in the garage," Carole said. "I think Burt might have an ancient gas-fired hot plate in there somewhere."

Blaine visibly brightened at the change of topic, but lacked his usual energy when he hopped down from his seat. Carole eyed him closely.

"It can wait. You need to sleep. How late were you boys up last night anyway?"

"We went to bed a little after midnight, but I think Kurt and I stayed awake until about two o'clock. Talking! We stayed up talking."

Carole laughed. "You don't have to keep clarifying, sweetheart. We trust you and Kurt. That's why Burt said you could sleep in Kurt's bed last night. If we had any doubts, you would have been on the couch. Although you might have gotten more sleep there. Come on."

She put an arm over his shoulder and directed him into the living room. Blaine reluctantly lay down on the couch and let her throw a thin blanket over him. From the way he stared at the blanket and Carole when he thought she wasn't looking, she gathered that the whole process of being tucked in was utterly alien to him.

"I can go upstairs so you can have the living room," he offered.

She waved off the suggestion. "I'll just read in the den. You sleep for a few hours."

"I don't want to get in your way."

"You're not. Go to sleep."

"Are you – "

"Yes. Sleep."

Carole shook her head slowly and smiled down at the boy. He closed his eyes, and in minutes his breathing had evened out, and she did something she'd wanted to do since he first stumbled into the kitchen bleary-eyed. She leaned down and dropped a light kiss on his forehead. Only later did she think how inappropriate that was, kissing a sleeping seventeen-year-old boy who was not her child. She didn't even show Kurt that kind of affection yet. But in that moment, Carole had seen a lonely child not loved enough, and she had opened her heart to him.

Burt joined her in the den half an hour later with a bottle of orange juice, an apple, and _Popular Mechanics_. He eased into an armchair by the window.

"Why the hell is Blaine on the couch?" he demanded. "If Kurt had to kick him out because – "

"We're alone, Burt. You can drop the overprotective father act. I know you don't think Blaine would ever pressure Kurt. For your information, Blaine is sleeping on the couch because he's never shared a bed with anyone before and had trouble adjusting."

"Oh." She saw how pleased that statement made her husband. "He's a good kid."

"I just wish his family understood that."

"Well, we can't do anything about his family until we get to know them. Then, maybe, they can learn by example. But until then, we've just got to let him know he's welcome and accepted here. That's all we can do, Carole, even though I wish we could do more."

"You are an incredible man, Burt Hummel."

He hid a grin in the corner of his mouth and flipped open _Popular Mechanics_. "You married me for a reason, right?"

"Hmm. Oh, yeah. Free oil changes and tire rotations."

"O-okay," he chortled. "And here I thought we'd be in the honeymoon stage for at least a year."

"Best to keep it real, honey. I'm using you for your mechanical skill."

"Yeah, well, I'm using you for your health insurance, so I guess we're even."

Carole turned back to her book while Burt flipped past a series of advertisements. Their eyes met over the top of their reading and they shared a lovestruck grin almost as dopey as the secret smiles Kurt and Blaine shared. With two sons almost grown, they should have felt too old for this, but they didn't. Not in the slightest.


	6. Lighthouse

**Six**  
>"<strong>Lighthouse"<strong>

A crash in the bathroom roused Finn from a deep slumber. He blinked blearily at his half-lit bedroom while his brain connected the reason for his sudden waking to the curses issuing from the bathroom across the hall. Finn kicked the blankets off clumsily, rolled out of bed, and staggered across the hallway. He opened the bathroom door without knocking and found possibly the most bizarre scene ever.

A single candle illuminated the windowless room with a faint yellow glow that reflected off the pooled water in the sink. Kurt sat in the dry bathtub, in his boxers, folded nearly in half with his legs sprawled over the side and his hands trying to gain purchase on the shower walls. Finn laughed, and Kurt made a rude hand gesture.

"Help me!" Kurt demanded.

Still laughing, Finn reached out for his brother's hand and pulled him out of the bathtub. Kurt started fussing over the places where he'd banged his legs, back, and head on the porcelain basin.

"What are you doing in here anyway? Is the power back on?"

"If the power was on, I'd be having a hot shower instead of a sponge bath," Kurt grumbled. "Now get out so I can finish."

"Maybe you should have more candles in here so you don't fall again."

Finn couldn't hold back his chuckles at the end of the statement, and he let Kurt push him out of the room and slam the door in his face. He trotted downstairs, his shoulders still shaking lightly, and found Blaine sitting up on the couch rubbing sleep from his eyes.

The only other time Finn had seen Blaine look so disheveled was the morning after Rachel's party, and that was completely understandable considering how much he had drunk and the fact that Rachel had been running her hands through his hair. Blaine's fluffy, curly hair looked exactly the same way now.

_Oh. _

"Was that Kurt yelling?" Blaine asked groggily.

"Yeah. He fell in the bathtub."

Blaine craned his neck to peer up at Finn and blinked stupidly. So that answered the question why Blaine and Kurt always met at coffee shops. He and Kurt were both morning people, but apparently the dapper Dalton boy needed a caffeine kick to wake up, which should be interesting considering the coffeemaker wouldn't work this morning.

"He's in the bathroom getting ready, and he fell into the bathtub."

The shorter boy shook his head, not understanding the humor. He stood up from the couch, swayed, and almost toppled over the coffee table. Finn put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, and Blaine smiled up at him vacantly. A good ten seconds passed before he said anything.

"Thank you, Finn." Another long sleepy pause. "Gonna go check on Kurt."

"I already helped him up. He's fine."

Finn watched in amusement as Blaine weaved his way over to the staircase and began climbing very, very slowly and clutching at the banister for support. He'd made it halfway up when he turned and blinked at Finn.

"Oh, okay. If he's okay."

He started making his way back down the stairs, and now Finn didn't even bother to hide his grin. He had never met anyone with such a sluggish mind in the morning, and it was the last thing he'd expected from Blaine, who was always so put together.

"Wait. My stuff is upstairs."

Blaine turned again and mounted the stairs once more. Finn felt a little uncertain letting the sleepy boy wander around the house alone. There were all kinds of ways he could hurt himself by running into furniture or tripping over rugs or, judging from the way he swayed, falling backwards down the stairs.

Finn bounced up the stairs three at a time and pushed lightly on Blaine's back to propel him upwards. In Kurt's room, Blaine shuffled through the small overnight bag he'd retrieved from his car yesterday after it became clear he would be staying here and not with Wes. Much to Finn's amusement, the one item Blaine's tired mind registered needing this morning was a bottle of hair gel.

"Dude, you have no idea how funny you are right now," he said, and stretched out on Kurt's unmade bed to watch the spectacle continue.

"What do you need if you have bird flu?" Blaine asked. Finn shook his head. "A tweetment."

Finn threw his head back and laughed, not because the joke was funny, because it wasn't at all, but because smart, eloquent Blaine Anderson couldn't make the connection between Finn's amusement and his own behavior.

"Stop teasing him, Finn," Kurt chided.

He had finished in the bathroom and came out looking as good as if he'd had a full shower. Even though they would undoubtedly be trapped inside all day, he had picked out a fashionable outfit and styled his hair in the poufy-thing he'd told Finn was called a pompadour.

"Is he always so loopy in the morning?"

Kurt nodded sadly. "It's even worse when he has to pick out his own clothes. The uniform makes getting dressed mindless, but he actually has to think on the weekends. Luckily, I'm here today. No, Blaine, you are not wearing that."

Kurt took the overnight bag from Blaine and shoved the outfit he'd brought back into the bag. Finn didn't see anything wrong with the khakis and white striped shirt. Blaine sat down on the bed next to Finn and watched with a dazed expression as Kurt selected an outfit from his own closet for Blaine to wear.

"You're going to let him dress you?"

Finn had to wait for a nod from Blaine, but the other boy's reactions came quicker now. He wondered if this was their dynamic at Dalton, with Blaine stumbling around his dorm every morning and Kurt coming to get him, guiding him down to breakfast protectively. Finn liked the idea of his brother taking care of Blaine a little bit after all the times Blaine had taken care of Kurt.

"You'll have to roll up the pants, but they're last season so I don't mind. Don't walk on the ends, though."

Kurt handed over a stack of clothes with the bottle of gel balanced on top. Blaine accepted it all without question and trotted into the bathroom still lit by the single candle. Kurt shooed Finn off his bed and deftly made his bed and straightened his room.

"Why was Blaine sleeping on the couch? I thought he was up here with you."

"So did I," Kurt said, frowning. "I'll ask him when he's had his … Damn it. We can't have coffee, can we?" Kurt sighed deeply. "I'll ask him when he's more awake."

"Maybe you snore."

Kurt shot him such a fierce look Finn put his hands up and backed out of the room. He bumped into Blaine in the hallway. He had cleaned up as well as Kurt, and his curls had disappeared beneath a helmet of hair gel. Finn wondered if the hair gel had some awakening qualities too, because Blaine seemed much more alert now.

"I left the candle burning, in case you wanted to use the bathroom too."

Finn slipped into the bathroom, still pondering the magical properties of hair gel. Kurt and Blaine must have talked about whatever reason Blaine had for sleeping on the couch, because when Finn emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later and stuck his head into Kurt's room, they were kissing.

"Hey – oh. Never mind. Sorry."

Finn had made it to the end of the hallway when Kurt's voice called him back. He approached slowly and peered around the door jamb cautiously. He was glad Kurt had a boyfriend now because everyone deserved someone to love, but he still found it a little weird to see them kissing. Even though Blaine spent a lot of time at their house and sometimes hung out with New Directions, Finn didn't really know him that well. He didn't like that, not knowing the boy who kissed his brother. But every time he tried to get Blaine alone to hang out, Kurt complained because they liked football and video games.

"What did you need, Finn?" Kurt asked.

They'd stopped kissing and stood a couple inches apart. Finn frowned a little bit at that, wondering why they were so far apart, why they weren't holding hands or something. His lips twitched into a frown because he thought it was maybe because of him.

"I was going to ask if you wanted breakfast. Or lunch, I guess, because it almost noon. But if you want to keep kissing …."

"Actually, I'm starving," Blaine said.

Finn galloped down the stairs with Kurt and Blaine trailing behind. He waited for them at the bottom of the stairs, and then he put an arm around Blaine's shoulder, because Finn had made the decision that he was sick of not knowing his brother's boyfriend and sick of everyone thinking he had a problem with gay guys.

"So, I was thinking … could you teach me some of those songs you played last night?"

"I'm probably not the best person to teach you guitar, but … yeah, sure. I could teach you any song I already know."

Burt stood at the island in the kitchen making lunch from cold cuts that had thawed overnight. The candles had all been extinguished, leaving the house dim, but not dark. The deep blue-gray clouds covered the sun, but sunbeams descended through clear patches. The beat of the falling rain had turned into a gentle thrumming. The windows and kitchen door had been opened to let in a fresh breeze where the porch awning shielded the house from the rain. The temperature had gone down considerably since yesterday, and the wind freshened the air in the house.

Burt slid the plate of sandwiches over towards the teenagers and smiled fondly when Kurt turned his nose up at the bologna and ham, but deigned to take a turkey sandwich.

"You boys must have stayed up late last night."

Blaine answered for them, explaining to Burt how they'd spent some time arranging a three part harmony for their countertenor, tenor, and baritone voices. While Blaine was occupied, Finn took the opportunity to get Kurt's attention.

"Is it okay if Blaine teaches me guitar?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kurt wondered.

"Well, every time I try to hang out with him and get to know him, you get all … _Kurt-ish_ and march him up to your room because you don't want to watch football or play video games."

Kurt stared at Finn open-mouthed and dropped his sandwich onto the paper plate. Finn smiled at that because he almost never shocked Kurt in a good way.

"You want … but I thought … _Finn!_"

If anything could disturb the conversation between Burt and Blaine, it was Kurt launching himself out of his chair and throwing his arms around Finn, and Finn hugging him back fiercely.

"Dude, you're my little brother, even if it is only by five weeks. Of course I want to get to know your boyfriend." He dared to ruffle Kurt's hair, which almost ruined the moment. "And they say you're the smart one."

After lunch, Kurt ran upstairs to fix his hair and Finn and Blaine sat down in the living room with Puck's old guitar. Burt and Carole sat in the armchairs by the window pretending to read, but glancing over the top of their magazines more than reading the pages.

"There's a Halo tournament at Dalton every Tuesday night," Blaine commented, as he tuned the guitar. "Family members are allowed into the dorms. You know, if you want to come play on my team. Wes hates Halo and has wanted to give up his spot for awhile."

"Dude, that would be awesome. Puck only ever wants to play Call of Duty. It's cool, but I like Halo better anyway. So it's in the dorms?"

"Yeah, the common room at the end of the hall. Just tell the hall monitor you're Kurt's brother, and he'll let you up."

"They won't care that I'm the competition?"

Blaine snorted. "You've already beaten us soundly with your original songs. What are you going to do? Sabotage our nursing home performance just to make your trip to Nationals that much sweeter?"

Finn smiled crookedly and accepted the guitar Blaine handed over to him. He spun the guitar pick around in his fingers trying to accustom himself to the feel of playing an instrument with something between his fingers instead of gripped in his palm.

"Don't put anything past New Directions. We _did_ send a spy to your school."

"Yeah." Blaine smiled widely. "I've been meaning to say for a while …. Thanks for that."


	7. Umbrella

**Seven**  
>"<strong>Umbrella"<strong>

It didn't take too long for the new soreness in Finn's fingers to call a halt to their guitar lessons. Blaine assured him that soon calluses would form, and he'd be able to play for hours without stopping. Finn experimentally pressed the reddened pads of his fingers and winced.

After they put the guitar away, Burt and Carole listened to the radio for a little while. The station had begun playing music again, though weather reports and news about damages interrupted frequently. The worst of the storm had definitely passed, and crews had been out trying to restore power and clear roadways all day. For now, though, the state police kept the travel restriction in place.

The novelty of living through the wettest weather Ohio had seen in centuries had worn off, and boredom had started to settle in. No amount of sing-alongs and board games – and they did plenty of both on Sunday – could relieve the technological itch. Blaine suffered right alongside with Finn and Kurt who desperately wanted to check Facebook or tweet or just open an Internet browser and feel connected to the rest of the world. But their phone batteries were dying, and anyway, no one had reception.

"I can't stay inside anymore!" Kurt cried. "Aren't you all going crazy?"

Blaine nodded, but he didn't want to say so out loud and insinuate he didn't like spending time with Kurt's family. Anyway, he didn't see what they could do about it. According to the radio, three feet of water covered half of Lima, and the rain still came down with enough force to make being outside miserable within five minutes.

"The year you three were born, there was an ice storm that lasted for three weeks. We went over to the shop, turned on all the kerosene heaters, and invited all the neighbors over to stay warm."

"I brought Finn into work with me when I thought it was going to get bad," Carole added. "We didn't go home that entire time. The nurses in Pediatrics let Finn play with the sick kids all day, and I'd come pick him up when my shift was over."

Kurt stood up from the couch and paced around the living room for a few moments before throwing up his hands in frustration. Blaine had never seen this side of his boyfriend before. Kurt loved spending nights in, cuddling on the couch, and watching Disney movies. Blaine was the more excitable, hyper one.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Kurt, in this?" Burt asked, gesturing to the rivulets of rainwater streaming down the window.

"I have rain boots and an umbrella."

And so he did. Kurt went upstairs to change clothes and came back down wearing sunshine yellow rain boots and a matching rain coat. He had a giant black-and-white checkered umbrella in one hand and a pair of fire engine red rain boots in the other.

"Blaine?"

Blaine stared open-mouthed at the proffered boots for a moment. Then he shrugged and climbed off the coach. He already wore some of Kurt's flamboyant clothes. Why not add a pair of eye-catching rain boots too? He didn't relish going out in public dressed like this, because they couldn't provide bigger targets if they'd dressed head to toe in rainbow patterns. But who was going to be outside in this weather, he reasoned? Other than a pair of stir-crazy twinks, of course.

"Don't be gone too long," Burt ordered. "And if the water gets deep, turn around."

"Dad, we're taking a walk through some puddles, not driving into standing water."

Blaine ushered his boyfriend out the door before his snappy comments got him into trouble or banned from leaving the house.

As it turned out, Kurt had a rose-tinted view of the situation. They trudged through ankle-deep water constantly, even on the sidewalk, and the splash from their footsteps flicked muddy residue onto their pants. Kurt hadn't realized that yet or they'd be going back for sure. High winds had knocked down trees and lightning had spilt one down the middle. Branches and leaves littered the dry patches of the street and sidewalk like shrapnel. The stop sign at the end of the block had been twisted into an alarming pretzel-like shape.

"I think we got very, very lucky," Blaine murmured as they passed the sign.

Kurt looked decidedly less self-absorbed now as he took in the damage to neighbor's houses and cars. The playground at the bottom of Miller's Hill had been entirely submerged, save for the very top of the jungle gym. His fingers twitched on the umbrella handle, and it dipped forward dropping a brief waterfall onto the sidewalk at their feet.

"Are you okay?"

"This is my home, and it's … it's ruined."

Blaine swallowed thickly and glanced around to make sure no one else had ventured out after all. Then he took Kurt's free hand in his and kissed it tenderly. He heard Kurt's breath hitch, and he turned his eyes up to see his boyfriend stared down at him with pain and wonder and affection in his blue-green eyes.

"All of this will be cleaned up and repaired one day soon. The important thing is that everyone is safe. You still have your family, Kurt, and you have me."

"Y-You kissed my hand." Blaine did it again just to see the toothy grin Kurt so rarely graced anyone with. "I feel like I'm in a John Hughes movie, and you're the guy I've wanted forever finally coming to sweep me off my feet."

"If John Hughes directed our lives, I'd have shown up in one of your classes and serenaded you. There would be a conveniently placed piano and awe-struck crowd to appreciate my grand romantic gesture."

Kurt groaned. "Please don't ever do that. I know the kinds of songs you pick when the Council doesn't censor you."

"Hey! "Candles" is a great song."

"Which only proves I'm a positive influence on you."

"Who knows? Maybe the next song I pick out all on my own will be honestly and truly appropriate to the situation."

Kurt leaned into Blaine and grinned deliriously happily at the sidewalk. After a pause, Kurt began leading him towards the flooded playground, which seemed so at adds to his mood a moment ago, Blaine didn't know how to object.

"We should walk to Rachel's house and make sure they're okay," Kurt explained. "She's the only one of my friends within walking distance."

The idea of seeing a friend and making sure she was okay appealed to Blaine, but he also kind of dreaded it. The last time he'd been to her house, he had been dropping her off after their date. He'd met her dads when he picked her up, and they were bound to be stuck at home like everyone else. God, what they must think of him.

"You've gotten very quiet all of a sudden," Kurt remarked.

Blaine didn't register the question until several awkward seconds had passed, thus proving Kurt's point. He sighed deeply.

"I haven't seen Rachel's dads since … you know, our date."

He said the last bit quietly. It had been the first big confrontation in their relationship, and they'd both said things they'd regretted and apologized for later, but remembering their first big fight when they'd been so happy just moments ago depressed Blaine.

"But you and Rachel talked about it, right? You're friends now. And if you're not, you really need to stop taking her calls so late at night."

Blaine chuckled at the memory. A very disgruntled, sleep-deprived Nick had informed all the Warblers how they'd better kick New Direction's collective ass at Regionals after Rachel Berry had called at two in the morning to sing a song to Blaine.

"It was only that once, and she'd written a song about me. It was sweet, and it was a good song too."

"No, it wasn't. It might as well have been called "My Headband, Part II.""

"But it wasn't. It was called "Blaine" so there."

"Oh, yes. How could I forget? The sheer number of words that rhyme with your name is obscene."

They laughed together as they remembered all the atrocious rhymes and how they'd just gone on and on. Every line had rhymed with Blaine until he'd been sick of his own name by the end. He did find the meaning in the song very sweet, though. It had been Rachel's way of saying that even though she was sad, she was proud of him for being who he truly was, but in an astonishingly self-aggrandizing way.

Their plan to check on Rachel proved impossible, however. The water rose too steadily for them to continue when they were still four blocks away. Very reluctantly, they turned back and were faced with the unpleasant task of walking into the rain.

"This was not my best idea ever," Kurt admitted.

They leaned in close to each other and ducked their heads beneath the umbrella to battle the wind as one unit. Blaine liked the feeling of Kurt so close to him, and not for the first time, wished they lived anywhere but Ohio. He wished he could do something as simple and innocent as hold his boyfriend's hand in public without being afraid all the time.

"You're doing it again, Blaine," Kurt grumbled. "What are you thinking about?"

"Aren't you afraid that – how do I ask this? – that being the way you are, where we live, will end badly?"

Kurt turned his head and fixed Blaine with an unreadable look. He thought his boyfriend was about to snap at him, but he didn't.

"Are you … Do you not like the way I dress?"

"What! No! God, no. I love the way you dress, and the way you act. You're stunning and you're … you're _you_. You're fabulous!"

Blaine heard the sassiness in his own voice, the one that sounded so stereotypically gay, the one he only let come out when he was around Kurt, and he saw his boyfriend smile at its sudden appearance. He spoke the truth, in his true voice. He'd recognized Kurt for what he was on the stairs at Dalton the first day they'd met, and it had taken his breath away to see this boy flaunt it. So Blaine had told him to be courageous, because he obviously already was.

"I'm asking you, Kurt, how it is that you're not afraid after everything you've been through. Do you realize …. Kurt, that day you asked me to come help you with Karofsky, you sounded so timid and frightened on the phone. And then you pushed him when we were in the stairwell. How do you do that? How do you just turn off your fear?"

He could have asked Kurt this anytime since November, but he hadn't because it revealed too much of what he tried to hide from the world. But Kurt had seen all of that last night, and there was no way to take it back. Blaine didn't want to either. It comforted him, knowing that someone in the world knew all of him, and he felt safe with his secret identity in Kurt's hands.

"I didn't do it for me," Kurt answered. "He shoved you, and I just thought, 'Oh God, he's already been bullied like this once before. I can't let it happen to him again.' I'm protective by nature. I take care of my friends and family, no matter what. It's just what I do. Don't tell me you're not the same."

Blaine shook his head. He wouldn't deny it. Kurt's tears had stirred a protective instinct deep within him.

"But not all fear starts like that, with a shove. Last night …" His voice caught, and he paused to tame the welling emotion. "I believe that your dad likes me. As an idea, I know it's true. But I don't know how to accept it as part of my life. How do I do that?"

"I don't think it's something you just do. You can't will trust into existence. If you keep an open-mind, I promise you my dad will show you that he approves of us … and of you."

"That might be too much for me to do right now."

He hated to say it, but Kurt needed to know how deeply Blaine had been hurt by his own father's silent disapproval, by his passive-aggressive attempts to turn him straight. And how could Blaine risk causing even a fraction of that kind of pain in Kurt's life? Because it didn't go away. When the other person refused to talk about it, when their single request was the one that could not be met, when that person was a parent, it didn't go away. Every second of every day, the ache throbbed beneath the surface and threatened to explode with agonizing pain at the smallest, most unexpected trigger so that nothing was safe or stable and the entire world became one continuous nightmare.

"Of course it is," Kurt answered. "Right now, it's too much. But it won't always be."

"Do you really believe that? After … after last night, do you really think I'm not too damaged?"

"No." He said it with so much conviction Blaine believed it. "Because you haven't stopped hoping. I see it in your eyes when you let down your walls and say something from your heart. If you had stopped hoping, you wouldn't make those puppy eyes at me all the time."

Blaine's lips twitched into a sad smile. They had reached the front porch of the Hummel-Hudson house again. Kurt paused on the doorstep, still holding the umbrella over their heads to protect them from the rain.

"You have a beautiful soul, Blaine Warbler."

Blaine didn't know where that came from or why Kurt said it now, but he believed Kurt meant it, and he believed it in his own heart and that was a fine place to begin again.


	8. Canal

**Eight**  
>"<strong>Canal"<strong>

Not surprisingly, the news report on the radio Sunday night announced a lengthy list of school closings, including McKinley. Dalton being outside the flood area was not included, but Burt called and left a message on behalf of Kurt and Blaine. The kids had stayed up late again singing while the adults turned in for bed, so Burt was very surprised to walk into the kitchen Monday morning and find Blaine chatting with Carole.

"Have trouble sleeping, kid?" Burt asked.

Blaine looked surprised at the nickname, and Burt had to admit he usually reserved it for Kurt, so that probably was a shock, but he'd started calling Finn "kid" sometimes too. Not on purpose, but then signs of affection rarely came deliberately. They weren't really signs of affection if they had to be thought over and planned out.

"Uh, a little."

"You know, Kurt's gonna get a complex if he keeps waking up without you there."

Blaine blanched, and Burt regretted the remark right away. He was meant to be comforting the kid, not trying to traumatize him more. Carole shot him a dark look that clearly spelled trouble for later.

"Actually, Kurt and I have talked about it, and he's all right with it."

"You talked about it?"

"Yes, sir. Talking it out is sort of our thing."

Burt made an interested sound in the back of his throat. He liked hearing that, because most guys didn't like talking about their feelings, but Kurt needed that. Like when Burt got a call from Figgins about Kurt mouthing off in class. He found out later it was because Karofsky's bullying started to get too much for him, and he hadn't talked to anyone about it.

"That's good that you can do that for Kurt. He needs someone like that," Burt stated, and he hoped that it made up for his earlier misstep.

"So do I."

Burt made the sound again, because he hadn't pegged Blaine as the emotional type. The kid always had it so together. Or he appeared to. In the past couple days, Burt had seen chinks in the armor that made him wonder if Kurt and Blaine weren't more similar than it appeared on the surface. Now he knew they were.

"You should call me Burt. 'Sir' makes me feel like an old man, as if having two almost grown sons doesn't do that enough."

Carole was making eyes at him. He knew the look that said, oh, okay, I forgive you and now I'm going to gush lovingly at you. She did that a lot, and Burt wasn't complaining, but he didn't pretend to understand why. He changed the subject before she could start in with the sighing.

"How's the weather this morning?"

"The radio said they've cleared most of the interstate to Columbus, but I think we're still cut off from the highway getting us there. Blaine and I tried to map it all out, but the news was over before we got it all written down. Some of Allen County has power now, but not Lima."

Burt took a bottle of orange juice from the counter – Carole had emptied out the refrigerator yesterday of everything that wouldn't spoil at room temperature – and wandered over to the window. It looked the same as yesterday with rainfall heavy enough to make out droplets as they fell and a gray rain-washed sky.

"Let's see that map."

Blaine spread out a road map of Ohio with the street map of Lima from the phone book taped to it. Little gray X's marked bridges that had been washed out or demolished sections of roads. The boy handed over a long list of notes from the news report.

"That's almost everything, but not quite," he explained.

Burt stared at the map for a long time, but came to the same conclusion as Carole. They were cut off from the highway still, not to mention all the flooding within Lima. The smaller insert map was covered in pencil marks.

"I wondered if Wallen Road was clear, but they didn't say anything about it."

Blaine traced the meandering back road with his finger. Burt knew it well, but he'd grown up around here. While most roads had been cut through hills or circled around, Wallen Road had started as an access road to an old coal mine, so it ran high up on the hills. Most drivers avoided the narrow back way because it lacked proper guard rails in most places, and the county never repaired the pot holes.

"Kurt showed you that road? After all the bellyaching he did because he had to use it on his driving test?"

"No, but he mentioned it. He said it was a faster way to Dalton because you avoid all the four way stops in downtown Lima, but he'd rather sit in traffic than use that road." Blaine shrugged. "I don't see what's so bad about it."

"And you've driven on it?" Carole wondered. "Because I've never heard anyone use Wallen Road that hasn't hated it."

"No, it's fine. A little bumpy and slick in the winter, but it's a faster way here."

Burt's lips twitched, and he couldn't help it. What did they teach these kids at that fancy prep school? Who was willing to risk sliding off a cliff and dying in a pile of twisted metal just to shave fifteen minutes off their drive? Well, a kid in love, of course, Burt told himself.

"Just be careful, okay?" Burt demanded. "Fifteen extra minutes with Kurt isn't worth a crash, and you're smart enough to know accidents on Wallen Road aren't just fender benders."

The boy's cheeks turned pale pink, and he fixed his eyes on the map. Burt clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, because how could he not be impressed that Blaine was willing to risk life and limb to get to his kid?

"But I see where you're going with that. Wallen Road avoids all the bridges and flooding between here and the interstate. If it's clear, you and Kurt could probably go to school tomorrow. But I'm not letting you kids leave if there's still a travel restriction in place. I don't care if we did find an open road, it's not worth risking it."

Teenagers always thought they were invincible and because it looked like they could do something, no matter how dangerous, they would succeed. Hell, Burt had been like that too, and nearly got himself and three buddies killed jumping train tracks when he was seventeen. But he thought, maybe, if any two kids had some common sense, it was Kurt and Blaine, because bullies had beaten it into their skulls and tortured them into observing everything and seeing fear around every corner. It was totally contradictory, but true, that Burt hated that his son and Blaine couldn't be reckless, oblivious teenagers like all their friends.

"What do we have planned for today?" Burt asked Carole.

She had been the catalyst behind most of the activities that kept the family from getting cabin fever and screaming at each other. He supposed she'd had years of practice cooped up in storms with Finn, because that kid could cause mass destruction when he got excitable.

"I'm running out of ideas," Carole admitted, a little worriedly. "I suppose we could start cleaning out the workshop garage like we planned to this weekend?"

"I'd rather keep all the cars inside, just in case. No way we want Blaine's vintage Mustang sitting in three feet of water."

"You shouldn't feel like we have to entertain us," Blaine stated. "Kurt and I should probably spend some time doing homework anyway."

Burt almost came out of his chair. "You mean to tell me you and Kurt haven't finished your homework? Do you two not realize how high the standards are there? How many other schools around here do you think have a no bullying policy that will keep you safe? And you'd risk failing out by leaving your homework until Monday morning?"

Carole cleared her throat significantly, and Burt let out a harsh breath.

"Sorry. You're not my kid, so I shouldn't …. But Kurt is going to get an earful."

Burt directed the last part at Carole, just so she knew this was not negotiable.

"Actually, si – Burt. I meant we should start working ahead since we're missing today and maybe tomorrow too. I think between us we have most of our textbooks."

"See why I keep telling you to check your temper?" Carole asked pointedly.

"Yeah, okay. I should have known you'd prioritize the right way."

"Yes, si – Yes. We always finish our assignments before we … uh, before …"

"You start making out?" Burt supplied. The boy skipped past pink and went straight to bright red. Burt didn't comment any more on the kissing stuff. "You and Kurt probably do your homework on Friday nights, am I right?"

Blaine hedged. "No, umm, we're usually … Friday night is our Skype night."

So that answered a question Burt had had for a long time. Why did Kurt disappear to his bedroom immediately following Friday night dinner? He'd insisted on locking himself away Friday nights, which Burt figured was some weird teenage thing. But no. He just wanted to Skype with his boyfriend who he had seen all week. Burt couldn't find it in himself to be upset about missing more time with his son because it was just so normal, and Kurt and Blaine deserved the chance to be just like all their friends.

"So – and maybe I'm going to regret asking this, but – when do you and Kurt go on dates? Because he's always here to spend time with us Saturday and Sunday, and I figure you've got plenty of homework during the week too …."

"We usually go for coffee right after school on days we don't have Warblers practice and stay off campus for a few hours."

Blaine had turned pink again and refused to meet Burt's eyes, which Burt figured he would have done with any father of his significant other, boy or girl. It made him kind of ridiculously happy to see, because it meant he was still important in Kurt's life, even though Kurt was a man and almost a legal adult.

"Well, you've got your priorities right," Burt commented.

Blaine's head whipped up, as if Burt had just shouted, 'Look, a three-headed purple dinosaur with sunglasses!' His eyes had gone perfectly round, like in shock, but Burt saw something else there, something more suspicious, or maybe cautious curiosity.

"Look, I could be the stern parent and tell you homework has to come first, but those Stepford kids freak me out. You're too young to work all the time, but you do get your work done, and Kurt is getting good grades. So who am I to say you shouldn't go out and have fun before you do your homework? Unless _your_ grades are slipping, in which case we need to have a talk with Kurt about distracting you. Because, like I said, Dalton is a one-of-a-kind school."

Blaine shook his head quickly. "No, no my grades aren't slipping. I'm … I'm an honors student like Kurt."

He looked abashed at saying it, but Burt was glad to know. He figured Blaine was a smart kid, but not everyone who could talk pretty had book smarts. That kind of thing was important to Kurt, even if he never said it out loud.

"Well, good. Then that's all good."

Burt took another drink of orange juice and watched Blaine's face flicker between confusion and something else. So maybe he was getting through to Blaine, even if just a tiny bit.

"What are your favorite classes?" Carole asked, relentless in her quest to get to know the guarded boy sitting at their kitchen table.

It was a safe question, so Blaine answered without hesitation. Music, of course, was his favorite, but he was also good at the social sciences and literature. He hated math, but had a natural aptitude for it. He struggled with foreign languages, though, and wished he'd taken French so Kurt could tutor him, but he took Italian and struggled through it himself.

Burt was amazed at how Carole got him to open up with follow up questions about the Warblers and student life at Dalton. Burt mostly sat back and absorbed the trivia tidbits he was learning about the boy Kurt had fallen for. He wondered if, maybe, their talk had something to do with Blaine's openness, because he'd never refused to answer direct questions before, but he'd never offered up information so freely either.

Kurt came down to breakfast around nine o'clock and gave Blaine a quick kiss when he thought Burt wasn't looking. He wondered if that was for his benefit or for Blaine's, because the boy had gone rigid, and his eyes flicked around the room to find Burt. He relaxed when he saw Burt's back to them, never noticing the reflection in the microwave.

One day, they'd both be comfortable with Kurt kissing Blaine in front of the family. But today, Burt settled for the tiny bit of progress because it was a start, and no beginning that mattered should be ignored.


	9. Sunbeams

**Nine**  
>"<strong>Sunbeams"<strong>

An unexpected knock on the door interrupted a spirited game of Monopoly that Blaine was dominating despite never having played a game all the way through before. Finn went to answer the door and came back with Mrs. Jensen from down the street.

"I'm so sorry to intrude, but I wondered if I could speak to you, Carole." The elderly woman held out a pair of nearly empty prescription pill bottles. "Jack is almost out, and we're not sure how long we'll all be cooped up like this. We thought, since you're a nurse, maybe you could tell us which ones he can ration out."

Carole accepted the bottles, read the labels, and frowned deeply. She showed Mrs. Jensen into the living room, and tapped Burt's shoulder to get him to follow. The game stopped abruptly in the middle of Kurt's turn. It didn't take more than five minutes before Burt to come back into the kitchen.

"Keep playing without me."

He took the Ohio road map from the countertop.

"No, dad – "

"Don't, Kurt. Carole says Mr. Jensen needs those pills. They're not something he can do without, even for a day. Blaine and I think we found a clear road, so I'm going to try it."

"Then at least let me come with you."

Burt didn't deign to answer Kurt because they all knew the answer was going to be no. Kurt and Finn looked upset, and held a whispered conversation across the table about which one of them was going to camp out in the cab of Burt's truck. Kurt thought he should do it since Finn would back down, and Finn thought he should do it because Burt would get too mad at Kurt. While they held their heated, hissed debate, Blaine made his way into the garage after Burt.

"Burt? I don't mean to overstep." Burt fixed him with a firm look, because they both knew Blaine's penchant for doing just that. "I think Kurt has a point. Going out alone isn't very safe, and you kind of did just give me a lecture about Wallen Road this morning."

"You know what this is?"

Burt tapped a box he'd brought down from a high shelf. Blaine recognized the picture as the kind of pontoon raft that inflated when the cord was pulled. He also knew that the pharmacy off Wallen Road would probably be flooded a good bit, and he put the pieces together.

"You think Kurt is going to want to row up to the pharmacy? Or that I would trust Finn not to tip us over? I appreciate your concern, but I can do this."

"I was a boy scout. I did the whole bit: trips, summer camp, merit badges. This isn't exactly canoeing, but I think it follows the same principle."

Burt exhaled deeply. "And I though Kurt was tenacious. All right. But go get some rain boots and a jacket."

When Blaine came back from retrieving the items from Kurt's room, he heard a shouting match going on in the garage. Apparently, both Kurt and Finn had locked themselves inside Burt's truck. Finn had relented, as predicted, but he was having some trouble getting Kurt out. When he saw Blaine ready to go, he let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm not going alone! See?" He motioned to Blaine. "I'm taking your Boy Scout boyfriend with me. Now get out of the damned truck, Kurt."

Kurt looked even unhappier than before, but he eventually climbed out of the truck. Blaine bumped his shoulder and flashed him that trademark look that Kurt called his "puppy eyes."

"Don't worry. We'll be just fine."

Kurt huffed, but Blaine knew it came from a place of concern and not genuine anger. "Of course I'm going to worry the whole time you two are gone."

Five minutes later, Burt pulled out of the driveway and followed the route Blaine and Kurt had walked yesterday to the steep incline towards Wallen Road. He went slowly, in case a landslide had taken out part of the road around the many sharp curves, and they kept the radio on low to hear about any road conditions.

"Boy Scouts, huh? I thought they had a problem with gay people."

"I didn't realize I was gay until after I stopped going to meetings. I try not to let that taint my memories, though. I made some of my best friends at Boy Scout camp. Not to mention I got a really tacky vest full of badges I can use to horrify Kurt with one day."

Burt chuckled appreciatively. "I tried to get him to join Boy Scouts when he was little, but he refused because of the unflattering uniform. But you liked it, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I am sort of drawn to uniforms."

"I meant Boy Scouts, but okay."

"Oh," he laughed lightly. "Yeah, I loved Boy Scouts and earning all my badges. I about drove my mom crazy trying to get my 'home repair' badge. If you ever need an electrical outlet replaced or a basement waterproofed …."

"No kidding? You're just full of surprises. I might take you up on that offer. Although what that house really needs is new tile in the master bathroom."

"Also something I did for my merit badge. I'd be happy to help."

Blaine felt Burt appraising him from the driver's seat as they rolled to a halt at a stop sign. He knew he was maybe trying too hard to make Burt like him, and he fully expected to be told to back the hell off anytime now.

"Next weekend, then, if I can get the tile before then. If you stay the night Friday, we'll have all day Saturday and Sunday to do it. I'm counting on you to know what you're doing, kid, because I know cars not flooring, and Carole will kill me if it doesn't look good."

The teenager blinked a couple times, trying to process what had just happened. After being stuck at the Hummel's house for three going on four days, he'd just been invited back for another three days to do house renovations with his boyfriend's dad. That was so far outside his realm of expectations he didn't know what to say.

"Okay. Yeah."

Blaine thought he could have been a just a little less eloquent if he'd really tried. He rolled his eyes at himself and directed his view out the window.

"So do you normally have Warbler rehearsal on Mondays? I know Kurt's told me, but I can't keep track."

"No, Tuesday and Thursdays we have after school practices. Fridays before competitions are special rehearsals."

"So it's date night for you and Kurt."

Blaine's mind went blank with the resurgence of this conversation. He found it utterly bizarre the way Burt cared enough about little details like this to recall them from prior conversations. His dad continually forgot Kurt's _name_, although Blaine suspected that was more of a deliberate jab than anything.

"Normally we would go out and do something, but we'll probably just skip that tonight."

Burt shook his head. "You shouldn't get into that habit. When you have a date night planned, you should have a date. It's important for any relationship to have that so you don't get caught in a rut and get bored with each other."

"I couldn't get bored with Kurt."

"That's what you think because you're young and you've known each other for six months. But if you do the same things and eat at the same places all the time, year after year, even life with Kurt will get boring."

Blaine thought about that, and he understood what Burt meant. But what struck him most was Burt's assumption that he and Kurt would be together for _years_, long enough to get comfortable and bored, and cared enough to give Blaine relationship advice. When he answered, his voice sounded thick with emotion.

"Oh. Then I guess we should do something, but I don't know what."

"What you do anytime rain ruins your plans. You do what you'd planned on doing, but indoors."

Blaine thought about that as he watched the windshield wipers rhythmically slosh rain off the truck windows. They had come to the downward slope of Wallen Road, and just as Burt thought, the hill descended into standing water. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and cut the engine.

"You ready for this?"

They carried the raft to the water's edge, pulled the cord, and stood back while the raft unfolded itself and inflated. Blaine climbed into the front of the raft and sat cross-legged while Burt settled into the back less gracefully. Blaine had picked sitting in front so he could provide most of the muscle with rowing and let Burt handle steering.

He had never done anything as bizarre as paddle up to the pick-up window in the pharmacy's drive-thru, and that was saying something for a singer who had performed in theme park shows. The little paddles were not easy to grip and required a lot more effort to propel the raft than a canoe oar, but Blaine dipped the paddle into the water without complaint or slowing down.

"I wish I had a signal on my phone so I could tweet about this," Blaine remarked, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't know what that means exactly, but I get what you're saying."

Carole had called ahead to the pharmacy and alerted them to the situation. The poor pharmacist who had been on call since the storm hit Saturday morning opened the sliding door using the manual pull and passed over the little bag of pills.

"Anything else you need to stock up on?" the pharmacist asked. "We can't sell the perishables anymore, but if you need something boxed or canned, I can grab it for you."

Blaine rattled off a list of items. While the woman went to fetch the items, Burt patted him on the shoulder. He'd taken Burt's advice and planned a rain date in his head while they rowed up to the store. It was low rent compared what he and Kurt had meant to do in Westerville, but with some candles for ambiance, it might just work.

The pharmacist passed Blaine a bag out the window, and he settled it in the raft in front of his crossed legs after passing her a twenty dollar bill.

"This is really great of you to do for your neighbor. Most of the people we get coming through here in boats are only looking out for themselves," the pharmacist commented.

"It's just what decent people do," Burt replied.

The woman, clearly starved for human interaction, didn't want to let them row away quite so quickly. Blaine rested the paddle across his knees and let the adults chat back and forth. He'd start rowing when Burt told him to.

"Well, you're teaching your son how to be a good man. I'll bet you're proud of your dad."

Blaine did a double take, because he hadn't expected to be mistaken for Burt's son. They didn't look anything alike, for starters. He didn't really know how to respond to the woman who clearly waited for him to sing Burt's praises. He wanted to do just that, but he also couldn't help but feel the sting of the words, because he was _not_ proud of his dad.

"Actually, this is my son's – "

Blaine braced himself for it, to hear Burt say he was Kurt's "friend" because they lived in Ohio, and they couldn't know this woman's thoughts about gay people.

" – boyfriend."

Blaine's heart leapt into his chest when Burt said the word, and he felt tears pricking the back of his eyes because he said "boyfriend" the way he said Quinn was Finn's girlfriend, and he'd said it to a total stranger who might scoff or laugh, except Blaine felt absolutely certain Burt would allow neither of those things to happen without consequences.

"Oh!"

Both men heard the surprised, disapproving note in the woman's response, but she refrain from commenting other than to wish them a nice day. Blaine picked up his paddle to start rowing, but Burt stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I probably shouldn't have – "

"No, it's okay." Blaine craned his neck around to look at Burt. "I'm proud of who I am, and I've heard much, much worse than a surprised gasp."

"You shouldn't have to hear anything like it," Burt grumbled. "I thought women were supposed to be more accepting of gay men, right? What's wrong with her?"

Blaine laughed lightly and began paddling back towards the truck, because Mr. Jensen needed his pills sooner rather than later and because Kurt would be worried sick until they arrived home safe and sound. Blaine jumped out of the raft at the waterline and pulled it onto the drier patch of road so Burt didn't have to wade through water. Together, they dragged it to the truck and tossed it into the bed.

Burt cranked up the heat in the cab on the way back to the house. In spite of the warm spring weather, the constant rainfall had soaked through their clothes leaving them bone cold. Conversation came slower on the drive back as they focused on holding fingers in front of the vents and warming up.

"The pharmacist clearly had the right idea about you, though," the teenager stated. "Kurt and Finn are proud of you."

"Yeah, we're not gonna do this. Kurt tries to turn me into a freaking saint all the time."

"Humility _is_ a virtue."

Burt went quiet for just long enough that Blaine thought the joke had been taken too seriously, and he'd offended his boyfriend's dad, but when he glanced over, Burt's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, and he shook his head in the good way that meant he didn't want to laugh but couldn't help it.

He reached across the bench seat and clapped Blaine on the shoulder, and the boy wondered if this was going to be their thing. It reminded him of father-son bonding moments in old movies from the 1950's. He liked it, and he hoped Burt continued doing it for as long as Blaine was allowed to be part of the Hummel's lives.

And then he realized something had changed in him in the last twenty-four hours, something so profound he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it yet. It overwhelmed him, because he'd expected it to happen during some big showdown or major life event like these things always happen in the movies. But this had snuck up on him one quiet day in the most mundane way as real life often did.

One minute, and he'd become a new person.


	10. Mist

**Ten**  
>"<strong>Mist"<strong>

Kurt paced the floor and chewed on his nails, two bad habits he'd never normally indulge in, but his dad and Blaine had been gone for hours. All he could think about was slick pavement and the dangerous curves on Wallen Road and the lack of proper guard rails. Carole tried to get him to calm down with a cup of tea she'd warmed up on the hot plate, but Kurt's stomach twisted too tightly. Finn had retreated to his bedroom, saying Kurt's nervousness freaked him out.

When he heard the rumbling of the truck engine in the driveway well after six o'clock, Kurt practically flew through the house and met the vehicle as his dad pulled into the garage. He launched himself at Blaine and threw his arms around his boyfriend's neck.

"You were gone forever! I was so worried about you."

Kurt pulled back and ran his hands over Blaine's heater-warmed face, noting the tenderness in his hazel eyes and his damp curls. He leaned down suddenly and pressed his lips against Blaine's in a searing kiss.

"I'm fine too," Burt commented casually, as he went into the house.

Blaine struggled against Kurt, and for a minute he thought it was because of his dad's presence, but when their lips parted briefly, Blaine sucked in a shuddering breath and laughed.

"Wouldn't you feel silly if I'd survived venturing out into a dangerous flood zone only to asphyxiate from your kisses?"

Kurt laughed along with his boyfriend and wrapped Blaine in another fierce embrace. He became aware of Blaine's soaked clothes – or actually, his soaked clothes that Blaine had borrowed. It was a testament to how much he cared about Blaine that he was more concerned for his boyfriend's health than his designer clothes.

"Come on. We need to get you warm and into dry clothes."

Kurt hauled him through the house, upstairs, and into his bedroom. He made to select clothes from his closet, but Blaine stopped him.

"I think I can manage on my own this time. Just tell me if there's anything you'd rather I not borrow."

Kurt wanted to protest, because he loved dressing Blaine, who so rarely changed out of his Dalton uniform. Honestly, separating him from the blazer almost took an act of God. His lips quirked a little because a flood _was_ an Act of God.

"I don't think you'll go for any of the clothes I haven't worn yet, so have your pick."

He kissed his boyfriend lightly again and trotted out of his room pulling the door closed behind him. His dad had already changed and claimed his usual spot in the recliner when Kurt got downstairs. He was summarizing how Mr. Jensen had his medicine now and saying something about Blaine retiling the master bathroom.

"Dad, you can't seriously expect him to do that."

"Why not? It needs to be done, and he knows how." Burt rushed to justify himself when Kurt flashed him a dangerous glare. "Look, Kurt. How many times have you seen my buddies over here fixing something while I work on their cars? It's the same as what you do when you help the girls pick out dresses or whatever."

"But – "

"Kurt, you're really sending me mixed message here. Do you want me to pretend Blaine is a stereotype? He likes musicals all that stuff you do, but he also likes football and video games and – I'm sorry if this offends you, Kurt – _guy stuff_."

Kurt's cheeks heated up with fury. "Did it ever occur to you that he tries to emphasize his masculine interests because that's what he has to do at home? You've never seen him at a sing-along or talking about _Vogue_. Yes, he likes things that break the stereotype, but he's not _that_ butch."

Burt sighed heavily and removed his baseball cap to run his hand over his head. "Honestly, no, that didn't occur to me. All right. I'll tell him we won't retile."

Kurt growled in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no. You can't do that. He'll take it personally and think he did something wrong to make you change your mind. Just …. Talk about Riverdance or something while you're working."

Kurt turned his eyes to the ceiling, becoming concerned at how long Blaine had been changing. He headed for the stairs to check on his boyfriend.

"I'll make sure to compliment his shoes too," Burt called out.

Kurt ignored his dad's comment because he could take the gentle teasing from his family who he knew loved him unconditionally. He did appreciate his dad's effort to bond with Blaine, but the machismo method Blaine had suggested worried him. Football was one thing, because Kurt knew he truly enjoyed it, but who passionately loved installing home flooring?

He knocked on the bedroom door and waited for Blaine to give him permission to enter. When he opened the door, his jaw dropped.

Eight or ten votive candles flickered around the darkening room. Two flutes of clear, bubbly liquid and a box of chocolates sat on the hutch at the end of the bed. Blaine stood by the bed dressed in black slacks and a green shirt that brought out the flecks of gold in his eyes. He out a single rose to Kurt.

"W-What is all this?"

"Date night," Blaine answered simply.

Kurt felt his knees go weak. All thought of scolding Blaine for volunteering to retile the bathroom flew out of his mind. It could wait for another time when he hadn't gone to such trouble to create a romantic ambiance. He accepted the rose and lifted it to his nose. Blaine kissed the back of his free hand, and Kurt's cheeks flamed.

"Such a sap," he muttered, though clearly so, so pleased about it.

Blaine beamed at him and led him over to the bed. Kurt sat primly on the edge, but Blaine had other ideas.

"Lay down."

"And there goes the romance," Kurt quipped.

Blaine rolled his eyes and led by example, stretching out on his stomch so his head was at the foot of the bed. Kurt joined him a moment later and laid the rose on the hutch. He tipped back one of the flutes and took a drink of what turned out to be warm ginger ale. He fought off the grimace because Blaine had really tried here, and the circumstances were not ideal.

"Chocolate?"

Kurt's eyes followed the dark chocolate moving towards his mouth and parted his lips. He allowed Blaine to place the square halfway into mouth before he bit down, his lips brushing against Blaine's fingers. Their eyes connected, and the air tightened around them so that Kurt had trouble breathing properly. He saw Blaine's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly, and his eyes flicked down to the supple skin of Blaine's neck. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Blaine made a strangled whimper in the back of his throat.

It all felt so erotic. Kurt's cheeks heated up, and he tore his gaze away to focus on the pattern of the comforter. He was so, so grateful he was lying on his stomach. He felt ridiculous too, because what the hell was wrong with him getting turned on by a piece of chocolate?

Beside him, Blaine stretched his arm out towards the hutch to pick up a book Kurt hadn't noticed there before. He hardly noticed it now, being so captivated by the way the muscles in Blaine's arms stretched and pulled beneath the slightly too tight shirt. And, oh, that was _so_ not helping his problem.

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

His voice had gone very high, like it always did when he felt nervous. He cursed his vocal chords. He was a singer; wasn't he meant to have more control over his voice than this? Judging from Blaine's tense look he noticed, but didn't say anything about it, for which Kurt felt eternally grateful.

"We were going to go to the poetry slam tonight, so I thought …."

He waved around a book from Kurt's bookshelf, _Shakespeare's Sonnets_, that he'd bought on a whim because he thought everyone should own a copy of Shakespeare's works. Blaine opened the book and began to read.

"When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,  
>I all alone beweep my outcast state<br>And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries  
>And look upon myself and curse my fate,<br>Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,  
>Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,<br>Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,  
>With what I most enjoy contented least;<br>Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  
>Haply I think on thee, and then my state,<br>Like to the lark at break of day arising  
>From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;<br>For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings  
>That then I scorn to change my state with kings."<p>

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. This sonnet? _This_ sonnet? He didn't know if he should be smitten or excited, but he was both, because his sexy, sweet boyfriend was reading a sonnet about the ability of gay love to make an insecure man happy again.

He had never felt quite like this around Blaine before. It intrigued him and frightened him at the same time. He wanted to run away to the safety of board games around the kitchen table, and he wanted to drape himself over his boyfriend and kiss him into oblivion. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Sonnet 29 is my favorite," Blaine said quietly, stroking the page with his fingertips.

Fingertips had never seemed less innocent to Kurt. God, _what_ was wrong with him? He couldn't let himself go there, not right now with his family in the house and the open door policy strictly enforced and Blaine still skittish about physical intimacy around other people.

"What's your favorite?"

"_The Flea_."

Blaine's brow furrowed, recalling their past literature lessons on John Dunne. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at Kurt curiously.

"The one where the poet tries to seduce his lover by …" He trailed off, his eyes locking onto Kurt's lips. "_Kurt_."

They shuffled towards each other, ruffling up the comforter a bit, and the book of sonnets lay forgotten as their lips connected. Kurt felt like the biggest jerk in the world for doing this, because he knew he shouldn't, but his lust-addled brain just wouldn't do the logical thing. He'd never had this problem before, of … of … of _little Kurt_ controlling him. He didn't like it, and yet he really, _really_ did.

Somehow, between sucking Blaine's tongue into his mouth and nibbling on Blaine's bottom lip, Kurt had been maneuvered onto his back. And what the hell, because he remembered very clearly wanting to keep his hips pressed into the mattress. But here he was, with Blaine almost on top of him, and yet thankfully their lower bodies angled away from each other, getting his first hickey.

"So not what I'd planned," he murmured nonsensically.

Blaine paused, removing his lips from Kurt's probably very bruised skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." The lack of hesitation in Kurt's voice jostled some part of his rational brain back to life. "I mean, no." He shook his head vigorously. "Yes. Yes, I mean, yes. Stop. Yeah."

His eyes found a very thoroughly amused Blaine peering down at him. Kurt started, because what had he done to Blaine's hair? The rain had washed out the gel, and the soft curls had felt so nice against his fingers. But, dear God, it looked like he'd attacked Blaine.

"Okay. No more hickeys today, but I made sure it's low enough a scarf can hide it."

Kurt's resolve melted. Even in the heat of the moment, Blaine was so thoughtful. He welcomed his boyfriend's kiss-bruised lips between his own. Except, damn it, that wasn't what Kurt had meant. He mumbled "Stop" into Blaine's mouth, but it came out muffled.

"What?" Blaine asked, pulling away.

"Stop."

"Oh. Is something wrong? I thought those were good sounds."

Kurt felt his face heat up. He hadn't even registered that he'd been encouraging Blaine with his little moans and hums.

"Yeah. Yeah, they were. Good. Definitely good."

Blaine was looking very proud of himself again, and it flustered Kurt just enough that he came back to himself fully. He shifted around until he lay on his stomach again. Unfortunately, Blaine didn't budge and was in the perfect position to attack the back of Kurt's neck with kisses.

"Blaine, stop. We have to talk."

That brought the kisses to a halt as well as ruined the romantic mood. Kurt hated himself for it a little bit, but it needed to be done. He didn't understand what was happening to him, letting his body get the better of his mind like this, but he really, _really_ didn't understand why Blaine was doing this.

"So I _did_ do something wrong."

"No. I'm just … confused."

Blaine's lips twitched. "It's a completely natural reaction – "

Kurt picked up the book of sonnets and smacked Blaine's upper arm. His cheeks flushed deep crimson out of both embarrassment and irritation. He'd hoped Blaine hadn't noticed, or if he did wouldn't bring it up, but his boyfriend did have a penchant for saying just what he shouldn't.

"That is not what I'm talking about! I mean, all of this. The chocolates, the candles, the poetry, the hickey. I'm not complaining. As you so inappropriately pointed out, I'm enjoying it. But aren't you worried my dad is going to walk in?"

Blaine frowned a little bit. "Yeah, a little. I'd be more worried not having a date, though."

"What? Why?"

"Because he told me to."

Kurt blinked. "My dad told you to give me a hickey?"

"Obviously not. But he said we should keep our date nights no matter what because they're important for a relationship."

A deep furrow creased Kurt's brow, and any trace of residual lust vanished with that statement. This, all of this, was because of his dad. If that didn't kill the mood, nothing would. He fought off the initial flash of hurt, though it shone through in his eyes apparently, because Blaine's face crumpled realizing he actually had done something wrong.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to … "

Make everyone happy and be who you think other people want you to be, Kurt finished in his head. He pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. He didn't know if they had moved one step forward or backwards here. Clearly, Blaine and his dad had talked about their relationship, and Blaine had concluded that Burt didn't have a problem with his son dating. But then he'd jumped at the chance to do exactly as Burt said, not because he wanted to, but because he felt he had to to be accepted, which, Kurt knew, was the exactly opposite of what his dad would have meant to happen.

"Blaine, it's okay."

"No, it's not." Blaine flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The candlelight reflected in his shining eyes. "I thought things were better now."

Kurt shifted his legs again so that he could lay next to his boyfriend and cuddle into his side. He put his head on Blaine's chest and hummed contently when Blaine's arms wrapped around him.

"We can't will ourselves to become new people in the blink of an eye. Six weeks ago, if you'd told me I'd be making out with my boyfriend with a … well, you know – " Kurt's cheeks heated up again. " – I'd've laughed and called you crazier than Wes after Cameron BeDazzled his gavel."

"How did you get here?"

"I've trusted you with everything, Blaine, from the first day I met you. I know this isn't any different. You promised me I could set the pace, and we'd go as slow as I needed us to. I'm terrified of all this, but I know you'll keep your promise. I know I'll be okay because I'm with you."

Blaine eyes lit up. "You trust me that much, Kurt?"

"I do."

"I trust you that much too."

Kurt felt Blaine relax beneath him, and they fell into rhythmic breathing. Even their heartbeats synched up after awhile, and they lay intertwined listening to the gentle tapping of rainfall overhead as they drifted off to the sleep.


	11. Light

**Eleven**  
>"<strong>Light"<strong>

Around four in the morning, a blinding flash of light startled Carole from a deep sleep. The sudden awakening reminded her of the first few months of Finn's life, when the faintest cry sent her leaping out of bed and racing down the hall. Ever since she'd brought her baby boy home seventeen years ago, such a rapid rousing had given her the urge to sneak into his room and kiss his temple.

Beside her, Burt slept like the dead.

She blinked against the too bright light and raised her hand to shield her eyes. Gradually, she became aware that the alien illumination was nothing more than her bedside lamp. The power had come back on at last, and a gentle buzzing from the appliances and gadgets of modern life filled the house once again.

Carole flicked off the lamp and swayed on the edge of the bed as she tried to adjust again to the darkness. When the little popping lights faded from her vision, and she could see deeper shadows that were furniture, she padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Two lamps in the living room had been on when the power went out Saturday, and the television had burst to life. Carole turned them all off and ignored the flashing clocks on the microwave and oven as she made her way to the stairs.

Finn had already turned off his ceiling light, if it had been on at all, and gone back to sleep. Carole indulged herself and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He snuffled in his sleep and turned over. He had ceased to be little a long, long time ago, but he would always be her little boy, whether he had a foot and some on her or not.

The lights in Kurt's room had not been on when the power went off, but the room still glowed with a faint, flickering light. She peeked inside and clucked her tongue at the sleeping boys wrapped up in each other on the bed. They had fallen asleep with half a dozen candles burning. She blew them out one by one and waited until the wicks turned to dying embers and released a puff of smoke.

"Carole?"

She paused before extinguishing the last candle on the bedside table. Kurt had sat up and twisted around to blink sleepily at her.

"Ssh. Go back to sleep, Kurt."

She petted his hair gently, because she knew she'd never be able to get away with it when he was fully awake, and kissed his forehead in the same place she had kissed Finn. Kurt grumbled, as she was sure he had done in his younger years. Once awakened, children never wanted to go back to sleep because there was too much of life to explore, and they hadn't yet discovered world weariness.

"What's happening?" he demanded.

"The power came back on, and you and Blaine fell asleep with candles burning. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Kurt looked down at Blaine, and his sleepy expression melted into supreme devotion. His fingertips trailed lightly along his boyfriend's cheekbone and just beneath those beautiful, full eyelashes resting against his cheek. Kurt made a happy humming sound in his throat and settled back down on Blaine's chest.

Carole clutched at her chest and blinked rapidly to clear her vision. She was so happy Kurt had Blaine at last. She knew better than to get her hopes up. The boys had only been dating a few weeks, but Carole struggled to stop herself from imagining a wedding cake with two grooms on top and – utterly ridiculously as it was, especially for a medical professional – little curly-haired, blue-eyed grandchildren with angelic voices.

"He makes me happy."

Kurt had roused himself again and craned his neck to look at Carole. She wondered if he was awake at all. His voice sounded so dazed and faraway, not at all like Kurt.

"You deserve to be happy, sweetie. More than anyone I know, you deserve that. Another person can't make you happy, though, Kurt. Only you can make yourself happy."

His brow furrowed, and she half expected a temper tantrum he looked so young and vulnerable in that moment. He settled into Blaine again, snuggling a little to fit the top of his head under Blaine's chin.

"I'm happy with him. I have someone to love now."

And then Carole knew for certain he was not awake, at least not fully, because Kurt didn't bare his soul that casually. She stroked his hair a few more times until his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out.

Sometimes she couldn't believe how much she loved this boy. He had claimed her heart from the first. She recognized a familiar soul in him, one that cared so much for others. Of course, she'd found out later Kurt's motivations for setting her and Burt up hadn't been entirely altruistic. She should have been angry about it, but instead she'd felt for the lonely boy who desperately wanted someone to love.

"And you do it so well, sweetheart," Carole whispered into his hair.

"Mom?"

Carole turned at the sound of Finn's voice at the door. He blinked into the dim lighting of the room. His eyes squinted at Kurt and Blaine on the bed, and then her peering at them from the edge of the bed.

"Mom, are you crying?"

With a deft movement, Carole covered the sleeping boys in a light blanket and ushered Finn out of the room. She eased the door closed behind her so as not to wake the sleeping boys and guided Finn the six steps back to his room.

"You boys are going to be dead tired if you don't stay asleep."

Finn struggled back into bed at his mother's prompting. He kicked at the covers when he couldn't slide his legs to the end of the bed, and Carole chuckled lightly at him. She loved these moments when the boys weren't fully awake yet and they behaved so unguardedly. It left her free to imagine they were still little boys and wouldn't be leaving for college next year.

"Why were you crying?" Finn persisted.

"Because I love Kurt," she answered, tucking him in.

"Why do girls always cry when they love someone? Tina did it in front of glee club and Rachel does it all the time and even Santana cried over Brittany. Don't you know it's weird?"

Carole smiled fondly at her son. "It's not weird, Finn. It's neurobiology."

"I don't know what that is."

He fell back asleep a few minutes later, and Carole made her way back downstairs and paused in the living room. If the power had come back on, the chances were high she would be going into work in a few hours. Falling asleep would only make it more difficult to get up again, so she made her way into the kitchen and started in on the unappealing job of cleaning and drying out the refrigerator.

Burt joined her a few hours later when she'd moved on to cleaning the cabinet shelves out of sheer boredom. He gave her a morning kiss and popped the lid off an orange juice bottle.

"I'm gonna check the condensation line on the upstairs furnace. You know how it clogs when it's been off for awhile."

Carole knew no such thing, so she let him go without comment. He stomped back into the kitchen not thirty seconds later. When he said nothing, she glanced up from the cabinet. Burt wore a stormy expression, and his face practically quivered in anger. He pointed towards the ceiling and to the left, in the vague direction of Kurt and Finn's bedrooms.

"The door is closed." She shook her head, not comprehending. "Kurt's door. Kurt's bedroom door is closed. He's in there with his boyfriend and the door is closed. Do you have any idea what they could get up to behind a closed door?"

"Darling, I'm nurse. I know _exactly_ what two boys can get up to, and I can tell you closed doors are not required. But you don't need to worry about Kurt and Blaine. They're just sleeping."

"Yeah. Under a blanket!"

"You make that sound like it's strange to sleep under a blanket. Wait. Burt! Did you barge into Kurt's room?"

"The door was closed!"

"Oh, for – Burt, I closed the door last night and put a blanket over them."

Burt sputtered for several moments, during which time Carole only looked at her husband pointedly.

"But – What – Carole, why would you close the door?"

"Because Finn was being loud, and because I honestly didn't even consider that they would get up to anything they know we wouldn't approve of. You are being ridiculous right now, Burt Hummel, and you'd better stop it before I get annoyed."

Burt huffed. "You already sound annoyed."

"Yeah, well …"

They sat in stony silence for several minutes, both breathing deeply and calming down before their irritation led to a wholly unnecessary fight they would both regret. Finn and Kurt might be oblivious to it, but Carole and Burt had had many of these philosophical disagreements over how to raise their sons. They wanted uniform rules and equal authority, but didn't want to overstep with their stepsons. It took a lot more discussion than they'd ever imagined, but they'd made it work so far.

"He stuffed his fingers in his ears and started singing. I know dads are supposed to cuff their sons on the back and say 'good job, son' and all that, but … _He stuffed his fingers in his ears and started singing_."

Carole knew exactly what Burt referred to, partly because he'd asked her if the hospital clinic had pamphlets on gay sex and partly because she'd asked how the talk had a gone. She laid down the cleaning rag and took a seat at the table next to Burt.

"I know you're worried about him, and you have every right to. I can't tell you how much sleep I lost last year over Finn and Quinn. I … Burt, I can't tell you how much I hate that girl for what she did to Finn, and now he's with her again. I just don't understand at all. But Kurt and Blaine, that is a beautiful relationship."

Burt nodded. "He's just so eager. You see the way he gushes over everything about Blaine. I'm worried he's gonna get in over his head, that he's gonna think he's ready for something he's not. He's gonna tell Blaine he's ready, and Blaine will do whatever Kurt says, and then …"

Carole's jaw slackened, because this conversation had taken the most unexpected turn. She had been of the mind that she needed to defend Blaine's honor, but Burt's head had been somewhere else entirely, someplace beautiful where he could worry about his son _and_ his son's boyfriend.

"Give Blaine a little more credit. He's made Kurt wait before." At the alarmed expression on her husband's face, she rushed to clarify, "I mean, to start dating. Kurt told me a few months ago that Blaine wasn't ready for a relationship with him. That was February, Burt, and they just started dating a few weeks ago."

Burt looked mollified.

"So maybe it's not so bad with Blaine looking out for our son."

Burt laughed into his orange juice. "What kind of upside down world is this when we rely on our son's boyfriend to protect his virtue?"

Her smile came slowly, but easily. She hadn't looked at it that way before, and yet it was true that they had relied on Blaine to protect Kurt in every way since he transferred to Dalton. And they had begun to see lately that Kurt protected Blaine as well, that this seemingly one-sided relationship was remarkably balanced and mature. Suddenly, imagining wedding cakes and impossible babies didn't seem quite so ridiculous.


	12. Recede

**Twelve**  
>"<strong>Recede"<strong>

With the power back on and the flood receding from Lima, Burt and Carole both went to work after leaving instructions for the boys to begin cleaning up the basement. Kurt objected because he didn't think it was fair to make Blaine clean their house. Finn protested because he didn't want to clean up the basement. Blaine had made them both mad in the end by insisting he didn't mind helping out.

They loitered around the living room for an hour after their parents left letting their dead cell phones charge while they texted all their friends to find out if they were okay. Only Santana and Puck were still without power and unable to check in, according to Tina, who heard about it from her parents. From the frantic way Kurt and Blaine texted, Finn guessed the Warblers had blown up their phones with messages.

"Well, I guess we can't put it off any longer," Kurt sighed.

The boys changed into old clothes and boots and trudged down into the basement armed with buckets and mops. Finn halted at the bottom of the stairs and made a retching sound in the back of his throat. The water had drained out of the basement leaving behind a thin layer of light gray mud and a damp, moldy stench that stung his eyes. The boxes they had not moved upstairs sagged on the shelves, their contents ruined, and debris littered the floor.

"Where do we even start?" Finn wondered.

Kurt came down the stairs behind him, gave a cry of disgust, and marched straight upstairs again. Blaine watched him go with a mingled look of concern and amusement. He stood about four steps up from Finn, so they were relatively eye level. He shrugged at Finn.

"I guess we start by clearing off the shelves. I think all this stuff probably has to be thrown away."

"Yeah. We can load it all in my truck and throw it in the dumpster at the shop."

With that plan in place, they began removing boxes from the metal shelving units. It proved a much harder task than they originally thought. Most of the boxes contained Kurt's old soaking wet designer clothes, which weighed a ton. Moving them was not helped by the fact that the waterlogged cardboard boxes tended to tear apart.

Music began playing at the top of the stairs, and Kurt descended again with a black scarf tied around his nose and mouth. Finn shook his head at his brother and received a fierce glare for it. He looked to Blaine, hoping for some backup, but his brother's boyfriend stayed loyal and kept a poker face. That was good, Finn decided. Kurt needed a boyfriend who didn't think he was ridiculous half the time.

"All together," Kurt said, his voice muffled a little by the scarf.

Moving up the stairs carrying the ripping cardboard box was one of the most awkward maneuvers Finn had ever had to do, and that included trying to learn pop-and-locking from Mike Chang. Finn was so tall and Blaine was so short and the stairs were so steep. They nearly tripped each other up multiple times just trying to get up the steps, never mind the trek through the house.

Finn realized that Kurt had not gone upstairs just to find a way to temper the rank stench of the basement and set up his iPod dock. He had also laid down paint-flecked dustsheets to protect the carpet between the basement and garage from their muddy shoes.

Once they had hefted the box into the bed of Finn's truck, Kurt pulled down the scarf and gasped for breath. Blaine and Finn breathed a little heavily from the effort, but they at least had had clear airways.

"Oh my God," Kurt grumbled. "I cannot believe how uncoordinated you two are! Between getting tripped by my Frankenteen brother and keeping my Hobbit boyfriend from toppling backwards, I'm lucky to be alive. Honestly, Blaine, you dance on furniture all the time. How can you not walk backwards up a flight of stairs?"

Finn and Blaine had both shouted "Hey!" at their Kurt-assigned nicknames, but smiled fondly at him nonetheless.

"If I wasn't so tall, who would get your precious mixer off the top shelf in the pantry all the time?" Finn asked, smirking superiorly.

"For the record, I like being the height I am," Blaine added, giving Kurt a sassy look. "_Someone_ had to take the Ring to Mount Doom."

Finn chuckled appreciatively and ambled back into the house to go find another box to move once the shorter boys joined him in the basement. The track on Kurt's iPod had switched to Lady Gaga, so Finn paused, peered over his shoulder to make sure Kurt couldn't see him, and skipped ahead. He dashed away, trying to be stealthy, but his heavy footsteps rattled the picture frames in the hall.

"He knows," Blaine said, coming down the stairs at few minutes later. "That you skipped the Lady Gaga track. Kurt knows, and he's planning retribution."

"So I'm gonna have to listen to her all day, right?"

"Actually … No." Blaine chuckled as a new playlist started. "It's much worse than that. That's Ke$ha."

Finn groaned. "Do something?"

"Sorry. Can't."

Blaine patted his back comfortingly before they pulled another box off the shelf and walked over to the stairs. Climbing with two was much easier than juggling three bodies on the narrow stairs. With Blaine going first holding the box at waist height, and Finn coming second with the box at chest level, they made it up the stairs with realized ease.

"Who says enormous height differences don't have benefits?" Blaine asked loudly, for Kurt's benefit. The countertenor looked up from his iPod and rolled his eyes.

Finn laughed and nodded as they made their way through the kitchen and into the garage. They tossed the box into the bed of the truck and watched it split apart and reveal a rainbow color of designer clothes.

"So why can't you stop Kurt from playing this terrible music? I really hate Ke$ha, and not just because of the glitter."

"I … I sort of screwed up with Kurt last night."

Finn didn't need to hear any more. He'd been a boyfriend long enough to have screwing up down to an art form, and he knew when he screwed up that he kept his mouth shut and did whatever his girlfriends wanted for the next couple days until it blew over.

"I get it, dude. It couldn't have been that bad, though, right? Because Kurt doesn't seem pissed at all, and you usually know when he's mad."

Blaine sighed deeply, like he had the weight of this world on his shoulders. Finn leaned against the side of the truck and clapped hand on the shorter boy's shoulder. He waited like that for Blaine to talk or tell him he didn't want to talk about it.

"I don't think I made him mad, but something I said hurt him. I don't really have much of a filter. I didn't mean to, but I didn't really think things through either."

Finn shifted a little awkwardly. He didn't know how to handle these kinds of things. Most of the fights in his relationships had been mysteries to him. Rachel or Quinn said he'd done something wrong and told him how to fix it. The only relationship advice he'd ever really given was "think of the mail," but he kind of thought that wasn't what Blaine needed to hear right now.

"Don't worry, dude. However super-inappropriate you are and however many solos you hog and however many annoying sweaters you wear, you're inside Kurt's head and even though he might complain about that, he still loves you. Like even if he's with someone else to try and forget you after you break his heart by kissing his best friend, he won't be able to stop loving you."

Blaine listened to this with a furrowed brow. A derisive sound came from around the garage door, and they turned to see Kurt standing there with one hand on his hip and a cocked eyebrow.

"Ignore him. He's not talking about us," Kurt stated. He fixed a steady gaze on Finn. "And I'll thank you to never, _ever_ compare my boyfriend to Rachel Berry again. Or me to you. Our relationship is nothing like your dysfunctional love quadrangle."

Kurt sounded really, really pissed now. Finn held up his hands palms out and backed away. Thankfully, his brother stopped glaring at him and turned to Blaine. They shuffled towards each other in the oddest way Finn had ever seen, like a magnet drew them together.

"I assume this conversation came about because you think I'm mad at you? I'm not," Kurt said.

He brushed his fingers along Blaine's jaw, and Finn turned away sharply. Not because they were two guys or because Kurt was his little brother, but because something so intimate should never be intruded upon. Finn felt something stir deep in him that he didn't understand, but it made him ache to hold Rachel again.

They worked for another hour hauling boxes up from the basement and into the bed of Finn's truck. Finn sensed Kurt was trying to get him alone to scold him again, and he tried his best to dog Blaine so he wouldn't have to face his brother. Kurt cottoned on to what he was doing, however, and cast him a warning look. At last, resigned to his fate, Finn hung back at the truck while Blaine went to the basement again.

"What is wrong with you?" Kurt hissed.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to hel –,"

"You can't go around telling my boyfriend I'm in love with him, especially not when I haven't even told him."

"Dude, I am so sorry."

Finn honestly did feel bad about venting his problems when Blaine had needed some advice, but he hadn't meant to it. He didn't even realize he'd used the word love. Kurt sighed and nodded, and Finn knew that was probably the only indication he'd get that his brother had forgiven him. He slapped Kurt on the arm and raced down to the basement before he could change his mind and start yelling.

"This is the last one with clothes in it, thank god," Blaine said.

The taller boy hedged for a moment, and Blaine waited expectantly for him to take the other end of the box. They'd discovered that their height difference was absolutely perfect for moving boxes up the stairs, so they left Kurt to haul up the lighter debris while they took care of the heavy lifting.

"About earlier. You know I was talking about me and Rachel, right? Not you and Kurt."

"Yeah, I got that."

Blaine had a knowing little smile that told Finn everything was okay. New Directions had a lot of water under the bridge, so Finn was an old hand at letting things go. It should have been simple to just let the subject drop, like he did with Puck and Santana and Rachel and Quinn. But that felt wrong. Now that he saw a new way to work out problems, the way Kurt and Blaine did it, Finn had gotten a little sick of his friends' just ignoring their differences because old grudges always came back worse than ever.

"I don't think you're super-inappropriate or that you hog solos. I mean, you do have a lot of solos. Like _a lot_, but then so do I. And your sweaters aren't annoying. A little gir – not annoying."

"Yeah, Finn. It's okay."

"Friends?"

Finn held out his hand, which Blaine took immediately.

"Definitely friends."

As they hefted the last box up the steps, Blaine asked a question he acted like had been on his mind for awhile.

"How can sweaters be annoying?"

"I don't know. I kind of like the way Rachel dresses, but Kurt said her sweaters were annoying, and he knows more about that stuff than I do. I wear a puffy orange vest sometimes."

Blaine almost dropped his end of the box. "Sorry, Finn. Sorry."

"You're one to laugh," Kurt said, stepping aside for them at the top of the stairs. "Honestly, those red Dalton vests?"

He shivered, and Blaine rolled his eyes. Finn didn't know what red vest they were talking about. He'd only ever seen Blaine wearing his blazer, and sometimes Kurt wore a black sweater, but he'd never seen any kind of red vest in the house or in pictures.

"What's wrong with the vest?"

Blaine groaned, and Finn quickly realized his mistake. Kurt ranted about the red sweater vests for the next fifteen minutes. He was so caught up in his tirade, he didn't notice Blaine and Finn exchanged surreptitious glances and switch out Kurt's iPod for Finn's. Bon Jovi replaced Ke$ha without Kurt realizing for a couple songs.

"I'll show you the vest when you come to play video games," Blaine promised. His eyes brightened, and he glanced sidelong at Kurt. "I'll wear the vest to school that day, so you can get the full effect."

Finn caught on quickly and grinned. "I'll wear my puffy orange vest so you can see it."

Kurt huffed and rolled his eyes, but they could all see how pleased he was that Finn and Blaine got along so well. Finn was happy about that too. He didn't get to see Kurt very often since he boarded at Dalton. Being friends with Blaine too meant no one had to be excluded when he came over or when Finn went to Dalton, as he was really excited about doing once a week from now on.

"Fashion bullying, that's what this is," Kurt stated, trying to hide his smile. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."

"I'm so ashamed," Finn said flatly.

"I am wracked with guilt. However can I make it up to you?" Blaine mock pleaded. He even made those big, sad eyes at Kurt.

"Stop it, you." Kurt bumped his shoulder. "Come on, get in the truck. We need to throw this stuff in the dumpster."

Yeah, Finn thought as he climbed into the truck, it was great having Blaine around.


	13. Levy

**Thirteen**  
>"<strong>Levy"<strong>

"What is it about storms that bring out the idiots?" Burt asked into the telephone receiver.

He listened to his buddy from the police station rattling off information about another car a patrol found abandoned in receded water and jotted down the address before hanging up. His attention had been partially drawn by Finn's truck pulling up at the dumpster, and the three boys tossing boxes from the bed of the truck.

He trotted across the parking lot, watching with amusement as Blaine and Finn hefted boxes together and sent them flying into the dumpster. They made a funny pair visually, but a crack team; none of the boxes fell short or overshot the mark. Kurt stood on the ground watching the progress with a similar type of curious humor.

"Hey, kid. Glad you're here. You mind watching things while I go out and do some towing?"

"Hmm. No, I'll go change into my coveralls."

Burt raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. In the small amount of shade, he could see just how much fun Finn and Blaine were having hurling boxes. Their musicality shone through in the perfect rhythm that they picked up, weighed, and tossed the boxes. It was almost like a choreographed dance.

"Hey, guys." They paused and turned to look down at him. "Anything else in the basement?"

"Nothing but mud."

"All right. When you're done here, you can stop for today. Blaine, thanks for helping out. You didn't really have to."

"It's no problem, Mr. Hummel. Burt."

"All the same." He turned to Finn. "Quinn's mom called in about an hour ago and said her car won't start. She wondered if you'd come by today and take a look at it. You remember what I taught you about ignitions?"

"Yeah, I can handle it."

"All right. But if there's standing water between here and the Fabrays, you call Quinn and tell her sorry, but you can make it. I've been towing cars belonging to idiots all day, I'm not gonna be happy if my son turns out to be one of them."

Finn nodded in a half-hearted sort of way that teenagers did when they had every intention of disobeying, but then he went still and stared hard at Burt for a beat.

"Promise."

Burt walked off and adjusted his baseball cap leaving the boys to finish emptying the truck bed. He missed a step when he figured out what Finn's look had been about and turned around, though he didn't know what to say about it exactly. He saw Blaine's hand dropping, like he'd just patted Finn's arm or something, and Finn was smiling that lopsided grin of his. Burt figured her didn't need to say anything, so he climbed into the cab of the tow truck and headed out to pull another moron out of the mud.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Kurt coming out of the shop to meet a car pulling in to the garage. He knew Kurt didn't have the skill to take care of all the water damaged cars that would be coming in for the next week or so, but he trusted Kurt to know what he could handle and what needed to wait. A couple of the guys had made it into work today, so he'd have plenty of backup in the mean time.

When Burt pulled back into the shop parking lot an hour later with a Mini on the truck – and this driver took the cake for biggest idiot – Finn's truck was gone and the dumpster overflowed with boxes. He parked and worked the gears to lower the lift. His best guy, Phil, came out to help roll the Mini off the truck.

"Finn called about twenty minutes ago and said he got the Fabray's car started," Phil said. "And Kurt's in the middle of a tire repair. That real slicked back kid his boyfriend?"

"Blaine's still here?"

Phil nodded. "He's helping Kurt patch the flat … in the office."

Burt paused for a minute, wondering if that was code for something. Then his brain reminded him they were teenage boys, and the business office was the only part of the shop without windows. He rolled his eyes and went back to work on the lift.

"I've never seen anyone's eyes bug out the way his did after Kurt got a grease streak on his face," Phil chortled.

"Okay, okay," Burt said roughly. "It's one thing to do this with the guys, but this is my son, okay?"

"Sorry, boss."

They went back to work in silence and rolled the Mini off the truck and into a parking space where it would have to dry out for a few days before Burt even bothered to raise it on a lift and see what kind of damage three days in four feet of water had done.

Every once in a while, Burt found his eyes drifting to the door marked "OFFICE" on the other side of the shop. Blaine had walked through that very door just over a month ago and made his request for Burt to tell Kurt about gay sex. Now he was on the other side of the door and down the hall, locked in a rarely used, windowless room doing God-knows-what with his son.

Every time he found himself staring, he found another task to busy himself with. He wanted to be mad at Kurt for leaving the flat tire without a patch, but then one of the guys said he'd offered to take care of it so Kurt could leave when Finn did, and that sort of ruined his plan, because he had told Blaine they could stop working after the boxes were unloaded.

"Take over for me," Burt called to Saul, who raised his hand in an affirmative.

He left the hood of the Malibu opened and strode over to the office door, but only because Blaine and Kurt had been gone so long. He hesitated on the other side of the door and stared for a minute at the customers sitting around the lobby watching television. Surely, the boys wouldn't get up to anything with complete strangers so nearby. Not in Ohio, not after what they'd been through at their schools.

So Burt turned around to go back into the shop, except he knew how guys and their hormones could be. Hell, Kurt was the result of one of those moments. He edged down the hall out of sight of his customers and stared at the closed door where Burt did payroll and filed paperwork once a week.

He didn't hear anything happening behind the door, and he tried to tell himself that meant nothing was happening, but he knew perfectly well that wasn't true. He had to go in there, he had decided. They had an open door policy, and those boys were smart enough to know that didn't mean just at the house.

He hedged, not sure how to go about this. After too long hovering on the threshold, he told himself he was being an idiot and decided to just open the door and pretend like he needed something from the office.

Burt was not ready for what he saw on the other side of the door.

Kurt sat on the desk in his coveralls with his face streaked with grease. Blaine stood between his legs with his hands in Kurt's hair, pulling his head backwards so he could attach his lips to Kurt's throat. Kurt let out a shriek when he saw the door opening, and Blaine leapt away.

"Did I hurt you?" Blaine worried.

Burt was of two minds. On the one hand, this was more traumatic for him than unexpectedly walking in on Kurt licking Blaine's mouth because it was so … so visceral. But on the other hand, the question cast the scene in a completely different light.

"Dad!"

Blaine's head whipped to the door, his eyes widening in horror as he came back to himself. He seemed to get what this must look like, his pressing up against Kurt while standing between his legs, because he skittered backwards putting a good five feet between himself and Kurt. Burt about fell over when Kurt let out another squeak and crossed his legs. _Crossed his goddamned legs_.

Yeah, Burt Hummel was not ready for this. He shouldn't have come in here. He left without saying anything and headed back to the shop where he sent Saul back to work elsewhere, picked up his tools, and ducked under the open hood trying to think about anything except his baby boy making out with his boyfriend and enjoying it _that much_.

Burt wasn't at all surprised to have a visitor two minutes later. He braced his arms on the car's grill and stared down at the engine. In his peripheral vision, he noted Blaine shifting his weight around, looking apprehensive. No, _tortured_. He took three deep breaths before talking, and his voice sounded noticeably strained, like Kurt's did just before he started crying.

"I am so sorry you had to see that, Mr. Hummel. I want you to know that it was entirely my fault. It was inappropriate, especially here in your place of business. You have been nothing but gracious to me in all the time I've known you, but especially these past four days, and this is just a terrible way for me repay you. I sincerely apologize, and I hope – I hope this doesn't change your relationship with Kurt."

Burt looked over sharply, and he could fully see the panic in Blaine's overly bright eyes. Burt's eyes slid over Blaine's shoulder, where Kurt stood several feet away. Tears had turned his son's eyes red, and he had a hand pressed to his mouth. He wasn't looking at Burt, though, he was staring at the back of Blaine's head.

And Burt got it. He really, _really_ got it this time. Everything clicked into place – the comments about the Andersons, the stark contrast between Blaine on stage and Blaine in real life, the stories Kurt told, the faraway looks he sometime caught. He got why Kurt cried for his boyfriend right now, and if Burt Hummel were a softer man, he would too. He _wanted_ to, but he just didn't work like that.

Burt stood up slowly, his eyes sliding back to Blaine. The vulnerable boy standing in front of him blinked quickly, and the tears caught in his eyelashes.

Burt wasn't ready to see what he saw; he wouldn't ever be, because Kurt was his little boy. But he didn't ever want to be the man who hurt anyone the way Mr. Anderson hurt his son. This was the moment – _the_ moment – that could change everything. So Burt would step up to the plate like Mr. Anderson should have years ago.

He took a step towards Blaine, saw the boy flinch, but closed the distance between them anyway. Blaine went deadly still in Burt's embrace, so he held on until the boy's mind caught up to what was happening and his hands touched Burt's back tentatively. He hugged the way Burt danced – awkwardly, like he didn't do it very often. Burt pulled back and put a firm hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"What happened back there was about a father realizing his son isn't a child anymore. It had nothing to do with Kurt being gay or you being his boyfriend. You understand? It had nothing to do with you. It will change the way I think about Kurt, but not in any bad way, just in the way every parent goes through this whether their kid is gay or straight.

"But there's more going on here, and we all know it. So I'm gonna say this, and I mean it, so I hope you listen and believe me. There isn't a damned thing wrong with you, Blaine. And no one worth your time thinks there is."

Burt couldn't guess what went on behind those shining eyes staring back at him, but the tears started to fall, and Blaine didn't try to hide them, and Burt figured that was something.


	14. Daybreak

**Fourteen**  
>"<strong>Daybreak"<strong>

Kurt woke Wednesday morning to the sunlight streaming through his open curtains. He blinked at the unusual sensation after so many days of overcast skies and tried to roll over, but a heavy body curled into his side prevented it.

Blaine's deep, even breathing sounded like music to Kurt's ears, and in his sleepy state he hummed happily. This was the first time he'd woken up next to his boyfriend. Usually, Blaine disappeared sometime in the night because he couldn't sleep in the same bed as another person. But here he was, curled up against Kurt with his long eyelashes splayed beautifully over his tanned skin.

Kurt's fingers brushed through the curls around Blaine's temple and he dipped his head to rest atop his boyfriend's. He breathed in the familiar scent of Blaine and wished fervently they could wake up like this every morning. Too soon, they would be back at Dalton in their respective dorm rooms with their respective roommates who would not appreciate it.

"Morning," Kurt said when Blaine started to wake.

Kurt's voice was thick with sleep and deeper than usual. Blaine started, and for once looked alert upon waking. It made Kurt giggle, and he noted for future reference that his lower register seemed to work miracles.

"Do you want the shower first?"

"If you don't mind."

Alert or not, Kurt knew Blaine needed much more time in the morning to get moving, so he shuffled his boyfriend off to the shower while he went to his closet and picked out their clothes for the day. He had just decided on their outfits when his dad appeared in the doorway.

"I'm off to work. It sounds like most of the roads have been cleared, so I'm guessing the travel restriction will be lifted today. If you and Blaine haven't finished all your homework, today would be the day."

Kurt nodded. "Do you want us to clean or anything?"

"Only if all your school work is done. I called Dalton, and they said some kid named Wes has been e-mailing all your assignments to you?"

"Ever the responsible one, Wes is. He's not even in our year. We'll check our Dalton e-mails today and do our work, I promise."

"All right. See you tonight, kid."

Kurt claimed the shower after Blaine, who was still trying to do up all the small buttons on the hunter green shirt Kurt had picked out for him when he came back fifteen minutes later. Luckily, the coffeemaker could be used again, and an extra strong cup sent the jolt of caffeine into his veins that Blaine desperately needed.

"Mom said we had to finish the basement today," Finn said, slurping milk out of his cereal bowl.

"Not us. We have to finish our homework, which we haven't touched since Sunday," Kurt said. "Sorry, Finn. You're on your own today."

The taller boy shrugged. "I'd rather clean the basement than do homework all day."

After loitering over breakfast, Kurt and Blaine went back up to Kurt's bedroom and took turns checking their Dalton e-mail accounts. Wes had sent them each two e-mails with a list of assignments from all their classes. Kurt shook his head slightly at the Head Warbler's enthusiasm for looking after "his" Warblers.

"We didn't work ahead nearly enough on Sunday," Blaine observed, scanning his lists of assignments. "Do you have our Government book? I didn't bring mine."

"Neither did I. What about Biology?"

"Yeah, I have that one."

They piled all their books together and made a note of which class assignments they couldn't do because they didn't have the books – Government and Psychology – and Blaine composed an e-mail to those teachers explaining.

"_Vous êtes un__pêchers,__ mon cher_," Kurt said, glancing up from his French essay.

Blaine hit send, grabbed his Italian book, and flopped onto the bed next to Kurt. They played this game a lot, Kurt practicing his French on Blaine who didn't understand and Blaine practicing his Italian on Kurt who didn't understand.

"_Spero che tu abbia detto qualcosa di dolce, mio caro._"

"_J'aime la façon dont__vous prenez toujours__soin de moi._"

"_Perchè sto solo provando a prendermi cura di te._"

They kissed lightly over their essays, having no idea what the other had said, and went back to work. Kurt finished his two page assignment on the things he would do when he went to Paris one day, thus completing his lesson on future tense, a few minutes before Blaine finished the same essay about a future visit to Rome.

They moved on to English Literature together, but realized that wasn't going to work as well because they both needed to use the computer to finish their papers on transcendentalism. Blaine let Kurt work at the computer first and start instead on reading the Nathaniel Hawthorne stories they would be discussing in class on Thursday.

For the next couple hours, they worked in the same way, partially together and partially alone, finishing up their literature, history, and biology assignments. They took a break for lunch and to watch an hour of an _America's Next Top Model_ rerun on Oxygen before going back upstairs to tackle the rest of their homework.

Burt called around one o'clock to let the boys know that the travel restriction had been lifted for Allen County, and that the main roads were clear from the house to the interstate. Kurt hung up and swiveled around in his computer chair.

"We're going back to Dalton tonight," he said. "Does it sound terrible that I'm looking forward to going back to the dorms?"

"No, of course not." Blaine tossed his pencil aside and sat up on the bed. "I can only take so much leisure time before I go a little crazy. That being said, I am also completely sick of doing this homework."

"Then let's take a break and pack."

In addition to gathering up their belongings that had been scattered over the house over the past five days, they had laundry to do. Kurt had brought his home on Friday and never gotten around to doing it because the power had been off. Blaine had never gotten the chance to drop his off at home for the maid to take care of, so they did his as well.

They spent the second half of their day alternating between folding laundry and doing homework for their least favorite classes. A frantic pace had taken hold now that they knew for sure their teachers would be expecting assignments handed in in their classes on Thursday.

"Argh!" Kurt banged his head on the open Physics book. "Why did we let this sit for so long?"

Doing two days work of Dalton homework was no picnic, but they were exceptional students and handled most of it with relative ease even having missed the lectures. Two days worth of Physics problems, however, nearly did them in. To make matters worse, an e-mail arrived from Wes just after three o'clock with another day of assignments.

"Five more Physics problems," Blaine said regretfully. "But nothing else due tomorrow, so maybe we can actually stop doing homework soon."

Even dedicated students got sick of school work after a full day of it. The last five problems proved impossible to decipher having missed three consecutive lectures. Blaine wrote another e-mail, this one to their physics teacher, requesting an extension and a private lesson during study hall when they came back to school.

Kurt and Blaine were dead on their feet by the time dinner rolled around. Kurt found it astounding that they'd done nothing but read, write, and lay around, yet they were more exhausted than his parents and Finn, who had been on their feet doing strenuous work all day. Carole took pity on them.

"I think you boys deserve control of the TV tonight," she said.

Normally after a tiring round of homework Kurt and Blaine curled up in one of their rooms (whichever one was devoid of a roommate for the evening) and watched a Disney movie to unwind. But with Finn and his dad around, Blaine would probably want to watch whatever game was on ESPN, so Kurt resigned himself to a night of boredom.

"What do you want to watch?" Blaine asked Kurt. "I think we're on _The Princess and the Frog_, right? But we can skip ahead to _Tangled_, if you want."

"Ugh … Disney movies?" Finn questioned.

"Disney _princess_ movies are our tradition after a really tough study session," Blaine clarified. "We watch them in order, starting with _The Little Mermaid_. It took me awhile to convince this guy to add in _The Hunchback of Norte Dame _and _Hercules_."

"They're not princess movies!" Kurt protested.

Despite his mock offense, Kurt felt ridiculously pleased that Blaine admitted to liking Disney princess movies. Even Nick and Jeff, Blaine's best friends, had been shocked to find out how much he loved singing along to the movies.

"But there are princesses in both movies."

"It's not the same."

Blaine rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way that always made Kurt laugh and give a rare smile that showed his teeth because Blaine just looked so _sassy_. His boyfriend leaned back in his chair and flapped a hand at Kurt.

"You are such a Disney snob."

Kurt laughed out loud. He opened his mouth to tell Blaine just how stereotypical he sounded right now, but he caught Finn's stunned expression across the table and bit back his retort. Blaine had never acted this way – like _himself_ – in front of Kurt's family before, and he wasn't going to risk his boyfriend retreating for anything.

"Do we even have Disney movies anymore?" Burt asked.

"Of course we do. They're in my room."

Kurt went upstairs to get _The Princess and the Frog_. When he came down to the living, his family had settled into their usual places. He popped in the DVD and joined Blaine on the couch. He was surprised to feel his boyfriend's hands on his waist tugging insistently. He leaned back tentatively, barely letting his back touch Blaine's chest.

"Why are you so tense?" Blaine whispered as the movie started. "Do you want to be the big spoon?"

"No, I'm … I like being the little spoon sometimes. I just – You're acting very … Blaine-like."

He chuckled in Kurt's ear. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

"Just that I'm not used to you touching me at all in front of my family, much less cuddling with me right in front of them."

Kurt craned around and caught the hurt on Blaine's face.

"We don't have to. I just thought since we always cuddle …. You can sit up, Kurt."

Blaine released his hands from Kurt's waist. Kurt studied him closely, wanting to know for sure Blaine wasn't acting this way because he thought he was supposed to. Kurt knew the look Blaine wore when he felt rejected. He had it on now, though he tried valiantly to mask it. Kurt guided his boyfriend's hands back to his waist and relaxed against his chest. Blaine made a contended humming deep in his throat that put a ridiculously giddy smile on Kurt's lips.

When the end credits began to roll, Kurt reluctantly moved away from Blaine's pleasantly warm body. They had agreed to head back to Dalton no later than seven o'clock so they had plenty of time to make curfew and deal with any detours or delays on the interstate. Burt and Finn helped them load up their bags of clean clothes and school books.

"You boys drive carefully," Burt said. "No texting each other or anything."

They went through this every time Kurt and Blaine drove back to Westerville in separate cars, but Kurt promised, once again, to be a responsible driver. He didn't mention that they talked to each other on the phone the whole way back to campus, because any kind of distracted driving made Burt crazy.

Kurt had just slipped in his earpiece and rounded the corner at the end of the block when Blaine's picture and name appeared on his phone. He glanced in his rearview mirror to see his boyfriend's red Mustang several car lengths behind.

"It feels weird not sitting right next to you after being around you constantly for five days," Kurt said.

Blaine chuckled on the other end of the line. "I know. I was going to suggest we stop for coffee if we make it back to Westerville with time to spare, and then another movie in my dorm since Nick will be at Mathletes until nine."

"A more responsible guy would suggest finishing our Government and Psychology assignments since we'll have our books."

"A less responsible guy would realize a movie is an excuse to make out with his boyfriend."

"Ah. Then a 'movie' it is."

"Drive faster."

Kurt laughed out loud and pressed down on the accelerator, which caused Blaine to burst into laughter over the line. He slowed down to within a reasonable proximity of the speed limit as he put on his indicator for the highway.

"I know it's a selfish and horrible thing to say with how much damage has been done in Lima, but … I'm really glad we got caught in that rainstorm."

Silence greeted his confession, and he cringed, knowing he'd admitted something he should have never said out loud. He regretted all the property damage the flooding had done to this hometown and all the people who had suffered because of it, but he couldn't bring himself to regret Blaine getting stranded with the Hummel-Hudsons for five days because too much good had come of it.

Blaine's response came at last, the words whispered softly into Kurt's ear.

"Me too."

Because now he knew that there wasn't a damned thing wrong with him and no one worth his time thought there was.

**FIN**

* * *

><p>Kurt and Blaine's FrenchItalian conversation:

"_Vous êtes un__pêchers,__mon cher._" = "You are a peach, my dear."  
>"<em>Spero che tu abbia detto qualcosa di dolce, mio caro.<em>" = "I hope you said something sweet, my dear."  
>"<em>J'aime la façon dont<em>_vous prenez toujours__soin de moi._" = "I love how you always take care of me."  
>"<em>Perchè sto solo provando a prendermi cura di te.<em>" = "Because I'm just trying to take care of you."

Thank you to Mari McSly for helping with the Italian translations. I don't speak French or Italian, so I was at the mercy of Google Translate until she came along to help me out.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading <em>One Fine Day<em>. Sharing it with you has been an incredible experience.

The amount of notifications in my Inbox every day that I posted is just overwhelming to me. I cannot believe how many readers I had, much less how many of you added this story to your favorites. This story has more alerts and favorites than any of my other stories. I'm so touched and so grateful to each and every one of you.

I hope that I'll see some familiar names reviewing stories that I post in the future. I don't post stories until they are complete because I tend to abandon a lot of ideas and don't want to leave readers hanging. I keep a list of WIPs on my profile page, and I also post about them on my blog occasionally. If you have questions for me, leave them in my Tumblr ask or send a PM. I'd love to keep in touch.

If you feel so compelled, please leave me a review to let me know what you thought of the story. Thank you to those of you who have already reviewed. You have brightened many of my days. I love you all so much.

Until next time,  
>Heather<p> 


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